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LELA  HORN 


ONLY  HENRIETTA 


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BLUE  BONNET  IN  BOSTON 
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BLUE  BONNET  KEEPS  HOUSE 

(With  Caroline  E.  Jacobs) 

BLUE  BONNET— DEBUTANTE 

BLUE  BONNET  OP  THE  SEVEN  STARS 

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THE  PAGE  COMPANY 

53  Beacon  Street,  Boston,  Man. 


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WHAT  S    THAT    FOR  f       SHE    ASKED 


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Copyright,  1919 
BY  THE  PAGE  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 


Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


Second  Impression,  April,  1921 
Third  Impression,  March,  1923 


PRINTED   BY   C.  H.  SIMONDS   COMPANY 
BOSTON,  MASS.,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 
C.  E.  R. 

WHOSE  UNFAILING  INTEREST 
HAS  BEEN  AN  INSPIRATION 


2132557 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    ONLY  HENRIETTA i 

II  HENRIETTA  RECEIVES  A  GIFT  ....  14 

III  IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  GODS     ...  30 

IV  HENRIETTA  SHARES  A  GRIEF  ....  54 
V  MRS.  KIRBY  BRINGS  GOOD  NEWS  ...  64 

VI    A  PROMISING  FRIEND 82 

VII     HENRIETTA'S  DIARY 96 

VIII     OLD  MEMORIES 112 

IX    ANXIOUS  DAYS 131 

X    A  WINSOME  STAR 148 

XI     PROBLEMS 163 

XII    A  SURPRISE 177 

XIII  GOOD-BY  TO  OLD  SURROUNDINGS  .     .     .195 

XIV  MRS.  LOVELL  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY    .     .  202 
XV    AN  UNEXPECTED  GUEST 216 

XVI     THE  NEW  BOARDER 235 

XVII     HENRIETTA  SCORES 246 

XVIII    SILVER  WATERS ,    .  270 

XIX     HENRIETTA  ENTERTAINS 304 

XX     PHILANDERING  DEFINED 321 

XXI  A  TRIP  TO  PIKE'S  PEAK    .     .     .     .     .331 

XXII  DICK  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY    ....  339 

XXIII    THREE  YEARS  LATER 356 

XXIV    GRADUATION  AND  HONORS 372 

XXV  HENRIETTA  SAYS  GOOD-BY     ....  387 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

'  WHAT'S  THAT  FOR  ? '  SHE  ASKED  "  (See  page 
34?)         .....         Frontispiece 

"  TURNED  SUDDENLY  TO  SEE  MINNIE  STANDING 

BESIDE  HER  "    .         .         .         .         .         .       2$ 

"  '  I  DIDN'T  DREAM  THAT  YOU'D  VENTURE  OUT  IN 

THIS   STORM  '  '  .  .  .  .  '6«j| 

"  SHE    TOOK    THE    PHOTOGRAPH    OUT    UNDER    THE 

LIGHT  AND  GAZED  AT  IT  CURIOUSLY  "    .  .       193 

"  DlCK  WAS  QUITE  OBLIVIOUS  OF  HER  PRESENCE  "      265 

"  '  THIS  IS  RATHER  PERSONAL  THROUGH  HERE  AND 

I'LL  JUST   READ  YOU   THE   END  '  '  .  .       3/6 


ONLY  HENRIETTA 


CHAPTER  I 

ONLY   HENRIETTA 

IT  was  Decoration  Day.  Henrietta  sat  on 
the  steps  of  her  mother's  small  cottage  enviously 
watching  the  crowds  pass  on  the  way  to  the  ceme- 
tery. Old  Mrs.  Price  had  gone  by,  her  arms 
laden  with  the  snowballs  she  had  so  long  been 
coaxing  into  bloom  for  this  occasion.  Susy  Price 
trudged  at  her  heels  with  hands  full  of  gorgeous 
blue  iris  —  Mrs.  Price  called  them  flags,  but  nc 
matter!  Even  little  Bobby,  too  young  to  know 
the  joy  of  having  folks  to  lay  things  on  up  in  the 
graveyard  followed  in  his  sister's  wake,  crushing 
and  trailing  the  bridal  wreath  it  had  been  his 
privilege  to  carry. 

It  seemed  to  Henrietta  that  her  heart  would 
break  as  she  watched  them.  There  were  no 
flowers  in  her  own  yard;  her  mother  never  had 
time  to  tend  them.  There  were  always  creams 
to  make,  sage  to  be  gathered  for  hair  tonic,  and 
lotions  to  be  put  up  and  labeled.  Right  now 
the  kitchen  looked  a  sight  with  its  bottles  ana 


2  Only  Henrietta 

jars  tumbling  over  each  other  as  if  they  would 
like  to  escape  —  at  least  that  was  what  Henrietta 
always  thought  when  she  looked  at  them. 
Sometimes  she  straightened  them  in  neat  rows 
out  of  sheer  sympathy.  She  wished,  oh,  how 
she  wished,  that  her  mother  were  not  a  specialist. 
At  least,  not  a  hair  specialist.  It  was  such  a 
mussy,  unprofitable  business  and  left  so  little  time 
for  anything  else. 

She  heaved  a  long  trembling  sigh  as  she  looked 
down  the  street.  Mary  Flanders  and  her 
brother  were  hurrying  to  catch  up  with  the 
Prices,  their  fat  chubby  hands  full  of  pansies, 
and  following  them  came  Minnie  Haswell  and 
the  Lee  twins  in  crisp  white  dresses. 

Minnie  Haswell  stopped  at  the  gate. 

"Why  don't  you  come  with  us?"  she  said 
pleasantly.  "  You  can  help  carry  these  snow- 
balls if  you  want  to.  We  had  a  lot  this  year." 

Henrietta  shook  her  head.  She  could  not 
trust  herself  to  speak. 

"Why  not?"  Minnie  urged.  "Won't  your 
mother  let  you?  " 

"  Yes  —  she'll  let  me,  but  we  haven't  any- 
body to  lay  'em  on,  Min,  and  —  and  I  guess  I 
won't  to-day.  Thank  you  just  the  same." 

"  There's  soldiers,"  Min  suggested. 
"Haven't  you  got  an  uncle  —  er  —  anybody?" 

Again  Henrietta  shook  her  head. 


Only  Henrietta  3 

"  Er  —  a  grandfather?  There  ought  to  be 
somebody." 

But  Henrietta  had  vanished,  leaving  Minnie 
wide  eyed  with  surprise. 

"  Well,  she  didn't  need  to  get  so  mad  about 
it,"  she  remarked  to  Hatty  Lee  as  they  hurried 
along.  "  Most  everybody  has  got  somebody. 
I  didn't  think  it  would  hurt  her  feelings  just  to 
ask." 

Mrs.  Kirby  was  bending  over  the  kitchen  stove 
stirring  a  creamy  looking  mixture.  She  was  so 
intent  that  she  scarcely  noticed  Henrietta  as  she 
ran  through  the  kitchen,  but  she  looked  up 
startled  as  the  bedroom  door  slammed.  Her 
sweet  face  held  a  puzzled  frown. 

"  What  ever's  the  matter  with  Henrietta?  "  she 
sa'd  half  aloud  as  she  drew  the  kettle  to  the  side 
of  the  stove.  Then  she  called  anxiously,  "  That 
you,  dearie?  What's  wrong?" 

A  quick  convulsive  sob  was  the  only  answer. 

Mrs.  Kirby  gave  one  troubled  glance  at  the 
stove,  drew  the  kettle  closer  to  the  edge  and  fol- 
lowed Henrietta. 

"  Why,  dear,"  she  cried,  bending  over  the 
shaken  little  form  on  the  bed,  "  what  on  earth's 
happened?  " 

"  Nothing  —  nothing  —  only  —  only  — " 
There  was  a  fresh  outburst  of  sobs  — "  every- 
body's goin'  up  to  the  graveyard  to  lay  flowers 


4  Only  Henrietta 

on  their  folks  and  we  haven't  anybody  up  there 
to  lay  any  on.  Not  even  an  uncle  —  er  a  cousin 
—  er  anybody!  I  don't  think  it's  respectable, 
an' —  an',  I'm  tired  havin'  folks  askin'  me  so  many 
questions  about  my  father  that  I  can't  answer. 
They  say  why  has  he  gone  away  and  when  is  he 
comin'  back  and  what  did  he  go  away  for  and 
do  I  love  him  as  much  as  I  do  you.  An'  if  any- 
body asks  who  I  am  they  say  '  Oh,  she's  only  Hen- 
rietta Kirby'  and  then  they  look  at  me  so  funny 
an' —  oh  dear,  oh  dear  it  seems  as  if  I  just  can't 
stand  it.  I  just  crave  to  die !  " 

The  warm  flush  that  had  dyed  Mrs.  Kirby's 
face  faded,  leaving  it  white  and  wan. 

"  I'm  sorry  that  the  children  annoy  you  about 
your  father,  Henrietta,"  she  said  slowly.  "  It 
doesn't  seem  right  that  they  should.  You  are 
not  to  blame  for  your  loss.  But  children  are 
often  cruel  without  realizing  it.  I  would  try 
to  turn  the  conversation  when  they  speak  of  him 
and  be  patient.  Don't  be  unkind  or  rude  to 
them.  '  Two  wrongs  never  made  a  right.' ' 

"  But  where  is  my  father?  If  he's  living  why 
don't  you  tell  me?  " 

"  Because  I  don't  know,  dear." 
'  Why  doesn't  he  come  back  to  us  if  he's  liv- 
ing? " 

Mrs.  Kirby  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Her 
eyes  had  a  far  away  look.  She  was  gathering 


Only  Henrietta  5 

up  old  memories,  sorting  them,  good  from  bad. 

"  Some  day,  when  you  are  older,  I  will  tell  you 
all  about  your  father,  Henrietta.  You  are  too 
young  now  to  understand." 

"  I'm  twelve,"  Henrietta  urged. 

Mrs.  Kirby  drew  the  pathetic  little  figure  into 
her  arms  and  gently  smoothed  the  thick  black 
hair  away  from  the  forehead. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  but  twelve  is  very  young  to  — 
to  begin  to  learn  about  sorrow  and  care.  Wait 
a  while  longer.  Just  a  little  while." 

"  But  I  wanted  to  go  up  to  the  cemetery  and 
put  some  flowers  on  somebody's  grave.  That 
rich  Mr.  Merely,  who  lost  his  wife  and  his  mother 
and  his  little  girl,  is  going  to  lay  twenty-five  dol- 
lars' worth  of  flowers  on  each  grave.  Lois  Fer- 
ran  told  Minnie  Haswell  so  yesterday.  Besides, 
there's  goin'  to  be  music  and  speeches  and  every- 
body's goin'  to  have  a  good  time." 

The  smile  that  had  struggled  on  Mrs.  Kirby's 
lips  broke. 

'  Why,  Henrietta,  people  don't  go  to  the  cem- 
etery to  have  a  good  time!  They  go  to  honor 
the  old  soldiers  and  carry  flowers  in  memory  of 
their  loved  ones." 

'Yes,  that's  just  it!  Their  loved  ones,  and 
we  haven't  any!  " 

11  We  have,  dear,  but  not  here.  They  are  way 
back  in  New  England." 


6  Only  Henrietta 

"  You  never  told  me  about  them.     Never." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  now.  Your  father's 
people  were  considered  among  the  best  in  the 
city  where  they  lived.  They  had  a  lovely  old 
home  set  high  on  a  hill  with  wonderful  trees 
growing  about  it  and  lovely  gardens  — " 

"Like  the  Morelys'?" 

"  Yes,  a  little." 

"Are  they  there  yet  —  my  father's  people?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Is  the  house  still  there?" 

"  I  suppose  it  is." 

"Well,  why  don't  we  live  in  it?" 

"  I  will  explain  that  to  you  some  day.  Sup- 
pose you  wash  your  face  now  and  change  your 
dress.  I  have  to  finish  the  cream  I  have  cooking, 
and  then,  if  there  is  time,  I  will  take  you  up  to  the 
cemetery  myself." 

"  But  we  haven't  any  flowers,  and  I  don't  think 
we  can  get  any.  Min  says  they  are  terribly 
scarce  this  year.  Her  mother  had  more  snow- 
balls than  anybody,  but  that's  because  she  had 
them  on  the  south  side  of  the  house  where  they're 
protected  ffom  the  wind." 

Mrs.  Kirby  went  back  to  the  stove  and  drew 
her  brew  over  the  flame  again.  As  she  stirred 
and  watched,  her  thoughts  hovered  about  Henri- 
etta. She  knew  every  step  of  ground  over  which 
the  child's  weary  thoughts  were  traveling,  must 


Only  Henrietta  7 

travel,  before  her  journey  of  life  was  even  well 
started.  Poor  little  Henrietta.  It  was  her  self- 
respect  that  had  had  a  setback.  She  wanted 
folks:  an  ancestral  background  that  would  throw 
her  into  some  sort  of  respectable  prominence. 
If  she  couldn't  have  them  alive,  she  wanted  them 
dead. 

The  smile  that  had  been  checked  in  Hen- 
rietta's presence  now  found  vent  in  a  soft 
low  laugh.  It  was  a  blessed  thing  that  Etta 
Kirby  had  preserved  her  sense  of  humor,  she 
often  needed  it  to  carry  her  over  the  rough 
places. 

When  the  cream  had  cooked  to  a  proper  con- 
sistency she  took  it  out  on  the  back  steps  to  beat 
it.  It  was  a  long  tedious  job,  but  she  tried  to 
forget  that  the  pan  was  heavy  and  her  arm  tired 
by  keeping  her  eyes  on  the  peach  tree  struggling 
to  bloom  in  her  next  door  neighbor's  yard.  One 
lone  blossom  had  braved  the  Colorado  winds  and 
cold  spring  rains.  Mrs.  Kirby  looked  at  it  with 
delight.  She  liked  its  courage. 

"  Come  and  see  the  blossom  on  Mrs.  McHen- 
ry's  peach  tree,  Henrietta,"  she  called  through 
the  open  door.  "  It  is  so  pretty." 

Henrietta's  voice  floated  back  dolefully: 
"  I  saw  it  this  morning.     I'm  busy." 
"Henrietta!     If    you    have    time    you    might 
dust  the  parlor  for  me.     I'll  be  through  with  this 


8  Only  Henrietta 

cream  in  a  minute  and  we  can  go.  Tidy  up 
the  bedroom  too,  please." 

Henrietta  straightened  the  bed  and  smoothed 
the  pillows  under  the  white  shams.  Then  she 
went  into  the  parlor. 

If  there  was  one  place  about  the  house  that 
Henrietta  disliked  more  than  another  it  was  the 
•  parlor  with  its  odd  assortment  of  mismated  fur- 
niture. She  never  asked  her  friends  into  it. 
She  hated  their  questions  about  the  bottles  and 
jars  that  reposed  in  the  dilapidated  show-cases. 
She  hated  the  combs  and  switches  that  kept  them 
company.  She  knew  instinctively  that  there  was 
something  wrong  with  the  red  plush  sofa  that 
swore  at  the  green  morris  chair.  She  loathed 
the  big  base  burner  with  its  broken  panes  of  sooty 
mica,  and  the  Brussels  carpet  with  its  faded  roses 
and  trailing  vines. 

Getting  out  the  dust  cloth,  she  began  her  cus- 
tomary round,  flicking  the  dust  from  the  blue 
glass  vases  that  flanked  excess  jars  of  cold  cream 
and  hand  lotions  on  the  shelf  that  served  as  man- 
tel. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  she  was  in  an  unhappy 
frame  of  mind,  but  the  vases  had  never  seemed 
so  ugly;  white  lilies  sprawled  uncertainly  on  a 
sea  of  blue  glass,  and  the  fluted  dusty  edges  bore 
silent  witness  to  Henrietta's  aversion.  What 
was  the  use  of  dusting  them?  What  good  were 


Only  Henrietta  9 

the  vases  with  that  mass  of  junk  for  company? 

She  stood  for  a  moment  regarding  them 
thoughtfully.  Then  she  called,  "  Mother,  come 
here  a  minute,  will  you?  " 

Mrs.  Kirby  thrust  a  cheerful  face  through  the 
doorway. 

"  What  is  it,  dear?  "  she  asked.  "  Don't  stop 
me.  I've  got  to  get  the  cream  in  the  jars  right 
away." 

"  Mother,  don't  you  suppose  we  could  put 
those  vases  on  the  shelf  away  for  awhile? 
They  look  so  funny  alongside  of  all  of  those  bot- 
tles." 

Mrs.  Kirby  regarded  the  vases  affectionately. 

"  Why,  where  would  we  put  them,  Henrietta? 
The  pantry  is  full  now.  Besides,  summer  is  com- 
ing and  they  are  nice  to  put  flowers  in." 

"  Couldn't  we  put  the  bottles  in  the  bottom  of 
the  sideboard  then?  They  look  so  mussy  here." 

"  Yes;  if  there  is  room." 

"  And,  Mother,  couldn't  we  take  those  pic- 
tures Asleep  and  Awake  into  the  bedroom?" 

"  What  would  you  put  in  place  of  them,  Hen- 
rietta? Seems  to  me  the  walls  would  look  bare 
without  them,  and  like  as  not  the  paper's  faded." 

Henrietta  glanced  about. 

There  was  a  crayon,  dark  and  awful,  of  an 
angel  bearing  a  dead  child  to  heaven.  It  always 
made  her  shudder. 


10  Only  Henrietta 

"  Couldn't  we  put  Not  Lost  but  Gone  Before 
there?  It  wouldn't  look  any  worse  than  where 
it  is." 

"Any  worse!"  Mrs.  Kirby's  tones  were 
grieved. 

"  Oh,  Mother,  I  hate  it  so.  It's  so  gloomy. 
Nobody  has  pictures  like  that  any  more  —  such 
awful  sad  ones  in  their  houses.  Look  at  those 
up  at  Mrs.  Lovell's.  I  noticed  them  yesterday 
when  I  took  her  the  cream.  They  are  all 
lovely  —  meadows  and  apple  orchards  and  coun- 
try roads  and  — " 

"  Now,  see^  here,  Henrietta,  don't  you  get  ri- 
diculous notions  in  your  head.  We  can't  pattern 
after  people  who  have  their  thousands.  Those 
pictures  were  worth  hundreds  of  dollars." 

"  I  know,  Mother.  I  don't  expect  to  have 
any  like  them;  but  because  we  can't  have  good 
ones  isn't  any  reason  why  we  have  to  have  these, 
is  it?" 

Mrs.  Kirby  went  back  to  her  work  without 
answering.  She  would  have  given  her  life  to 
make  Henrietta  happy,  but  she  couldn't  cater  to 
all  her  moods,  especially  such  foolish  ones.  It 
was  absurd  to  take  down  pictures  and  leave  bare 
gaping  spaces  simply  because  one  had  taken  a 
dislike  to  them. 

Henrietta  finished  the  dusting.  She  gave 
Asleep  and  Awake  the  merest  flirt  of  the  cloth, 


Only  Henrietta  11 

but  when  she  came  to  -the  other,  the  lugubrious 
crayon,  she  doubled  up  her  fist  and,  shutting  her 
teeth  tight,  struck  the  angel  square  on  the  wide- 
spread wings. 

'There!"   she  said  and  her  blue   eyes  grew 
black  with  anger.     "  I  hate  you.     /  hate  you!  " 

She  reached  up  and  took  the  picture  from  the 
hook  that  held  it.  Then  she  carefully  turned  the 
angel's  face  to  the  wall  and  began  to  ply  the  dust 
cloth  between  the  bottles  and  the  hair  switches 
in  the  show  case. 

When  she  had  finished  dusting  the  room,  omit- 
ting the  morris  chair  and  the  couch  with  malice 
aforethought,  she  went  into  the  kitchen.  The 
table  was  filled  with  little  white  jars.  Mrs. 
Kirby  bent  over  them  anxiously. 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  hurried  the  cream,"  she  said, 
"  it  looks  a  mite  grainy.  Maybe  it  will  be  all 
right  when  it  cools.  Are  you  through,  Henri- 
etta?" 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Everything?  Seems  as  if  you've  only  been 
a  minute." 

"  I  didn't  do  the  couch  and  the  big  chair  be* 
cause  — "  She  was  going  to  say  because  they 
didn't  need  it,  but  her  usual  honesty  rose  to  the 
surface  and  stopped  her.  "  I  didn't  do  'em  be-, 
cause  I  hate  'em.  I  want  'em  to  wear  out  and 
look  dirty." 


12  Only  Henrietta 

Mrs.  Kirby  turned  slowly.  Her  eyes  were  pa- 
thetic in  their  helplessness. 

"  Henrietta,"  she  said,  "  you  make  it  very 
hard  for  me.  Where  would  we  get  new  things 
if  those  wore  out?  It  isn't  often  I  speak  of  our 
difficulties — but  —  you  know  the  state  of  our 
pocketbook.  There  are  four  pennies  in  it  this 
morning.  You  need  new  shoes,  a  summer  hat, 
new  underwear  — " 

Henrietta  gave  one  glance  at  her  mother's  face 
and  flung  herself  passionately  upon  her. 

"  Oh,  Mother,  I'm  so  sorry.  I  didn't  mean 
it.  Truly,  I  didn't.  I  know  you  do  the  best 
you  can.  I'm  so  sorry." 

"  There,  there,  dearie,"  Mrs.  Kirby  soothed, 
patting  the  child's  heaving  shoulders.  "  I  know 
you  didn't  mean  it.  I  know  how  hard  it 
is.  The  old  things  are  not  nice,  but  some 
day  perhaps  we  can  get  new  ones.  Don't  cry. 
There,  there,  dearest,  please,  please  don't." 

"  I'm  so  —  so  wicked  —  and  ungrateful  — 
and  I  know  how  hard  you  work  and  — " 

"  Stop,  Henrietta,  please.  Go  wash  your  face 
and  then  come  and  set  the  table.  We'll  get  a 
bite  to  eat  and  start  right  off  or  we  won't  get  up 
to  the  cemetery  until  everything  is  over." 

She  filled  a  tin  basin  with  clear  cold  water  at 
the  sink,  and  put  it  into  Henrietta's  hand;  then 
gathered  up  twenty- four  little  jars  of  cold  cream 


Only  Henrietta  13 

on  a  tray  and  took  them  out  on  the  back  porch  to 
cool. 

Henrietta  went  into  the  bedroom.  She  put 
the  basin  down  on  the  washstand  and  turned  to 
the  parlor,  carefully  closing  the  door  into  the 
kitchen  so  that  her  mother's  watchful  eyes  might 
not  follow  her. 

"  I'm  going  to  turn  you  round  again,"  she  said 
to  the  inoffensive  back  of  the  crayon  that  she  had 
turned  to  the  wall.  "  Not  because  I  like  you 
any  better  —  I  hate  you  just  the  same  —  but  I 
don't  want  to  hurt  her." 

When  she  had  adjusted  the  picture  to  her  sat- 
isfaction, given  the  morris  chair  and  the  sofa 
a  careful  rubbing  down  with  the  dust  cloth,  she 
went  back  to  the  bedroom  and  performed  her 
simple  ablutions  with  a  lighter  heart. 


CHAPTER  II 

HENRIETTA   RECEIVES   A   GIFT 

"  GOOD  morning,  Mr.  Haswell.  Is  Minnie 
home?" 

Mr.  Haswell  paused  in  his  inspection  of  Pike's 
Peak  and  laid  his  field  glasses  on  the  seat  beside 
him. 

"  Yes;  I  dunno  but  she  is,  Henrietta.  She  was 
helping  her  Ma  in  the  kitchen  a  while  back. 
Want  to  have  a  look  at  the  Old  Man  this  morn- 
ing? "  He  waved  a  hand  toward  the  mountain. 

Henrietta  took  a  step  forward  eagerly. 

"Oh,  could  I,  Mr.  Haswell?  I  'spose  you 
can  see  the  station  house  as  plain  as  anything. 
Dear  me,  how  I'd  love  to  get  up  there  once." 

Mr.  Haswell  adjusted  the  glasses  and  Henri- 
etta peered  through  them  eagerly.  She  kept  up 
a  steady  flow  of  conversation  as  she  gazed. 
How  far  was  it  to  the  top?  How  much  did  it 
cost  to  go  up?  Did  people  ever  stay  all  night? 

Mr.  Haswell  made  a  place  for  her  on  the  seat 
beside  him,  and,  leaning  back,  watched  her  face 
with  its  swiftly  changing  expressions.  There 
was  something  in  its  enthusiasm  and  interest  that 
responded  to  a  feeling  within  himself.  It  was  a 

14 


Henrietta  Receives  a  Gift  15 

wistful  little  face,  with  large  luminous  blue  eyes. 
Faint  purple  shadows  lay  beneath  them  —  a  soft 
duskiness  that  told  of  Irish  ancestry  not  far  re- 
moved. 

The  mouth,  too,  was  attractive;  sensitive  and 
pathetic  when  it  drooped,  which  was  not  often, 
for  the  corners  turned  up  promisingly  and  a  smile 
hovered,  ready  to  break  at  the  least  provocation. 

"  How  much  does  it  cost  to  go  up,  Mr.  Has- 
well?" 

"  Five  dollars,  any  way  you  fix  it." 

"Five  dollars!" 

"  Five  if  you  go  by  the  Cog;  five  if  you  ride; 
five  if  you  walk." 

"  Five  if  you  walk!     Why,  how  is  that?  " 

"  Well  —  "  Mr.  Haswell  blinked  up  at  the  sun 
speculatively — "  it  would  take  a  pair  of  shoes,  a 
good  stout  pair.  If  they  was  new  at  the  start 
they'd  be  in  pieces  when  you  got  back.  It's  a 
hard  climb." 

Henrietta  laid  the  glasses  on  her  knee  thought- 
fully. 

"  But  don't  you  'spose,  Mr.  Haswell,  you 
could  make  two  old  pairs  do  ?  One  to  go  up  and 
one  to  come  down  in?  " 

"  Well  now,  mebby  you  could,  Henrietta.  I 
hadn't  thought  of  that.  But  they'd  have  to  be 
very  good  to  begin  with." 

"  Yes,  that's  the  trouble.     And  I  most  never 


16  Only  Henrietta 

have  two  pairs  at  once.  These  I  have  on  need 
half-soling.  Mother  was  saying  so  yesterday. 
Does  it  seem  to  you  that  expenses  pile  up  all  the 
time  in  your  family,  Mr.  Haswell?  " 

Mr.  Haswell  checked  the  smile  that  rose  to 
his  lips.  He  was  a  kindly  man  and  he  loved 
children. 

"  You  are  quite  young  to  be  thinking  about  ex- 
penses, Henrietta." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  wouldn't  if  —  if  — "  she 
was  going  to  say  if  she  had' a  father,  but  pride 
stopped  her  —  "  if  Mother  didn't  have  to  work 
so  hard.  You  see,  we  haven't  any  one  to  depend 
on  but  ourselves,  and  the  hair  and  complexion 
business  isn't  so  awfully  good.  Specially  out 
here  where  the  wind  blows  so.  People  get  care- 
less about  their  skins.  Is  it  very  wonderful  up 
on  top  of  the  Peak,  Mr.  Haswell?  " 

"  Very  wonderful,  Henrietta." 

"  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  about  it." 

"What  do  you  want  to  know?" 

"  Oh,  just  anything." 

"  Sunrise  is  about  the  prettiest  thing  you  can 
see  from  the  top,  I  reckon."  Mr.  Haswell 
crossed  one  leg  over  the  other,  drew  a  pipe  from 
his  coat  pocket  and  settled  back  for  a  chat.  He 
was  a  Colorado  pioneer  and  knew  every  turn  and 
twist  of  the  mountains. 

Henrietta's  eyes  sparkled. 


Henrietta  Receives  a  Gift          17 

"  A  sunrise.  Oh,  that  must  be  grand. 
Please  tell  me  about  it." 

"  It  ain't  much  to  tell.  You've  got  to  experi- 
ence such  a  sight  to  enjoy  it." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  Do  you  ever  feel,  Mr.  Has- 
well,  when  you  see  beautiful  sights  like  that  — 
that  you're  just  going  to  burst  —  or  something? 
Do  you  get  hot  and  then  cold  and  then  kind  of 
weak?  I  do.  Little  squiggles  run  up  and  down 
my  back,  and  sometimes  I  get  so  light  I  feel  as 
if  I  was  flyin'.  Flyin'  on  wings  like  a  bird." 

She  stretched  two  little  arms  up  to  the  blue 
sky  above,  and  Mr.  Haswell  took  another  look 
at  her  face  while  he  filled  his  pipe  slowly. 

"  You  are  a  very  lucky  little  girl  if  you  feel 
like  that,"  he  said.  "  That's  a  spark  of  the 
Divine  in  you.  But  you'll  suffer,  suffer  — "  He 
finished  the  sentence  under  his  breath.  Henri- 
etta didn't  catch  the  words.  They  sounded  a 
little  profane,  but  he  couldn't  have  been  swear- 
ing, for  his  eyes  were  sweet  and  kind  and  she  al- 
most thought  —  wet. 

"  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  about  it  —  from  the 
time  you  begin  to  climb  the  mountain.  It  would 
be  next  best  to  going  there.  Do  you  go  through 
loads  and  loads  of  pine  trees?  " 

'  Yes;  and  you  look  down  on  'em  as  you  get 
higher.  Thousands  of  'em,  so  tall  you  wonder 
how  they  ever  got  such  a  growth.  You  can  hear 


18  Only  Henrietta 

them  singing  in  the  wind  and  smell  'em.  Never 
was  anything  on  God's  earth  so  fragrant  as  a 
pine  tree.  And  sometimes  you  reach  out  and 
pick  a  little  white  snowdrop  that  has  been  cute 
enough  to  peep  out  from  the  crevice  of  a  rock 
to  get  a  view  of  the  wonders.  Ever  see  a  snow- 
drop, Henrietta?  You  ain't?  Well,  you've 
got  something  to  live  for.  It'll  preach  you  a 
better  sermon  than  you  ever  heard  in  a  church. 
You  couldn't  look  in  its  pure  little  face  without 
knowin'  that  God  was  behind  it,  encouragin'  it 
to  brave  the  snow  and  the  ice  and  the  tempests." 

Henrietta  sat  with  her  hands  clasped  in  her 
lap.  Her  gaze  never  left  Mr.  Haswell's  face. 

"  And  sometimes  as  you  go  along  you  hear  a 
panther  cry.  S'pose  you  never  heard  a  panther 
cry  in  the  night,  did  you?  You'd  think  it  was  a 
child  got  lost  from  its  Ma  and  was  cryin'  for 
her." 

Henrietta  shivered. 

"  They  aren't  there  now,  are  they,  Mr.  Has- 
well?"  ' 

"  Oh,  yes,  some." 

"  But  the  sunrise!  You  were  going  to  tell  me 
about  it." 

"  That's  easier  said  than  done,  Henrietta. 
No  mortal  could  paint  the  scene  with  words  or 
brush.  It  begins  with  shafts  of  light  breakin' 
through  waves  of  darkness  —  great  soft,  blue 


Henrietta  Receives  a  Gift          19 

waves  that  look  for  all  the  world  like  a  sea  roll- 
ing in  towards  you.  And  then  Old  Sol  sails  in. 
Not  all  at  once  —  slowly.  The  splendor  would 
strike  you  blind  if  he  came  too  quick." 

Henrietta  drew  in  her  breath  sharply. 

"How  did  he  look,  Mr.  Haswell?  " 

"  Like  a  great  ball  of  fire  at  first,  a  ball  that 
some  one  was  pullin'  up  out  of  the  sea.  Then 
the  clouds  began  to  take  on  the  glory.  Lights 
shot  through  them :  gold  an'  crimsons,  faint  at 
first,  and  roundin'  out  bold;  changin'  to  pinks  and 
purples  and  then  — " 

Mr.  Haswell  paused  and  turned  his  head  to- 
ward Henrietta  inquiringly. 

"  Remember  how  the  Red  Sea  parted  for  the 
Israelites?  You  learned  about  that  in  Sunday 
school,  didn't  you?  Well,  the  great  stretch  of 
blue  that  had  looked  like  the  sea  began  to  part, 
stand  aside,  and  a  path  of  gold  streamed  down 
the  aisle  —  and  then  —  it  was  dawn!  The  old 
fellow  was  on  the  job.  Everything  made  way 
for  him." 

When  Henrietta  spoke  it  was  in  a  whisper. 

"  Oh!  "  she  said,  and  "  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  " 

She  got  up  from  her  seat  and  laid  the  glasses 
in  Mr.  Haswell's  hands,  giving  the  Peak  a  last 
lingering  glance. 

"  He's  got  his  mantle  on  if  it  is  the  first  of 
June,  hasn't  he?"  she  said  and  laughed. 


20  Only  Henrietta 

"  Yes;  the  old  beggar  never  lays  aside  his  furs 
even  in  the  summer  time." 

"  I  think  I'd  better  go  find  Minnie  now.  I 
wanted  to  give  her  this  book." 

She  went  down  the  steps  and  followed  the 
neat  gravel  path  that  led  to  the  back  of  the 
house. 

She  could  hear  Mrs.  Haswell  scolding  before 
she  reached  the  door  and  would  have  turned 
back,  only  that  Minnie  spied  her  and  welcomed 
her  with  a  smile. 

Mrs.  Haswell  was  a  good  woman,  but  she  was 
always  worn  out  and  half  ill.  She  was  a  pains- 
taking housekeeper;  having  established  a  reputa- 
tion for  ability  and  cleanliness  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, she  felt  obliged  to  live  up  to  it.  Mr. 
Haswell  pleaded  with  her  to  take  life  easier, 
but  as  long  as  there  was  a  speck  of  dust  to 
chase  or  food  to  be  cooked  she  was  busy  and  ill- 
natured. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said  to  Henrietta,  not  uncor- 
dially,  "  but  be  careful  to  step  on  them  news- 
papers spread  out  there.  I've  just  finished 
scrubbing  the  floor  and  I  don't  want  to  do  it  over 
again." 

Henrietta  obediently  hopped  from  one  section 
of  the  morning  Gazette  to  the  other,  and  gained 
a  chair  without  mishap. 

"How's    your    Ma?"    Mrs.    Haswell    found 


Henrietta  Receives  a  Gift          21 

time  to  say  as  she  beat  up  a  cake.  "  Is  she  all 
wore  out  with  house  cleaning?  " 

"  No'm,  we  haven't  cleaned  yet.  How  nice 
yours  looks,  Mrs.  Haswell.  You've  had  the 
kitchen  papered,  haven't  you?" 

"  Yes ;  not  before  it  needed  it  either.  Ain't 
you  going  to  clean?" 

"  Yes'm.  I  think  we  are.  When  Mother 
gets  time.  She's  very  busy  —  or  quite  busy," 
Henrietta  corrected,  remembering  how  business 
had  fallen  off.  People  were  going  away  to  the 
canons  for  the  summer. 

"  Well,  she's  lucky.  If  everybody  was  like  me 
there'd  never  be  a  face  and  hair  specialist  in  the 
world.  I  never  used  a  hair  tonic  in  my  life. 
Nor  a  face  cream  either.  I  never  had  time." 

Henrietta  glanced  at  Mrs.  Haswell's  thin 
wisps  of  sandy  hair  beginning  to  show  ugly 
streaks  of  gray,  at  her  sallow  skin  and  toil 
roughened  hands.  Mrs.  Haswell  caught  the 
glance  and  it  roiled  her  to  sarcasm. 

"  I  suppose  your  Ma  has  to  keep  fixed  up  in 
her  business,  havin'  to  make  all  the  living. 
Where's  your  Pa?  When  is  he  comin'  home? 
You  expect  him  some  time,  don't  you?  " 

Henrietta  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  but  before 
she  had  framed  the  words  kind-hearted  little 
Minnie  broke  in  upon  the  conversation. 

"  You  got  up  to  the  cemetery  after  all  yester- 


22  Only  Henrietta 

day,  didn't  you?  I  saw  you  coming  home  in  an 
automobile." 

'Yes;  one  of  Mother's  customers  picked  us 
up  just  as  we  were  coming  out.  I  looked  every- 
where for  you,  but  I  couldn't  see  you." 

"  It's  hard  to  see  folks  in  the  road  when  you're 
ridin',"  Mrs.  Haswell  remarked,  greasing  her  tin 
for  the  cake  and  testing  the  oven  with  a  moist- 
ened finger. 

"  Oh,  Mother,  you're  tired  and  cross  this 
morning.  Henrietta  wouldn't  miss  speaking  to 
anybody." 

'  You  just  tend  to  them  vegetables,  young 
lady,  and  keep  still." 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  bothering,"  Henrietta  said, 
the  warm  color  running  into  her  face.  "  I  just 
came  to  bring  Minnie  a  book." 

"  More  trash,  I  reckon.  Minnie  has  got  to 
stop  readin'  and  learn  to  scrub  and  darn.  That's 
a  woman's  work.  A  man  thinks  a  sight  more 
of  a  woman  who  knows  how  to  run  a  house 
and  mend  than  he  does  of  one  that  can  talk 
highfalutin'  and  dress  well.  He  stays  by  her 
longer." 

Henrietta  ignored  the  thrust,  though  she 
winced  as  she  hopped  over  the  papers  to  reach 
the  door.  She  paused  to  say  something  to  Min- 
nie, but  Mrs.  Haswell  went  on: 

"  It's  people  like  them  Bradfords  you  was  with 


Henrietta  Receives  a  Gift  23 

yesterday  that  is  giving  this  town  the  name  of 
'  Little  London  ' :  apin'  the  English  with  their 
bob-tailed  horses  and  outlandish  dog-carts.  It's 
an  outrage  the  way  that  youngest  girl  rides  round 
here  straddle  of  a  horse.  If  they  didn't  have 
so  much  money  people  would  put  a  stop  to  it." 

"  Mrs.  Bradford  is  one  of  the  kindest  women 
my  mother  knows,"  Henrietta  defended  calmly. 
"  I  couldn't  begin  to  tell  you  all  the  nice  things 
she  has  done  for  us  —  things  that  nobody  else 
would  think  of,  like  giving  me  nice  dresses  that 
Miss  Mary  Helen  didn't  need — " 

"  Some  people  don't  mind  taking  things  folks 
don't  want." 

Henrietta's  blue  eyes  flashed. 

"  I  didn't  say  want,  Mrs.  Haswell.  I  said 
need.  Some  of  them  were  most  as  good  as  new, 
and  so  much  better  than  we  could  buy.  It  would 
have  been  silly  not  to  take  them  just  because  — 
because  they  belonged  to  some  one  else." 

"  You  make  over  Aunt  Amelia's  things  for 
me,  Ma,"  Minnie  reminded. 

"And  why  shouldn't  I?  My  own  sister's 
things.  That's  in  the  family." 

"  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged  for  the  book,  Min, 
it  turned  out  just  fine,"  Henrietta  said,  as  she 
backed  through  the  kitchen  door.  "  Come  over 
when  you  can,  won't  you  ?  " 

Minnie    muttered    something   and   nodded   to- 


24  Only  Henrietta 

ward  her  mother,  whose  back  was  turned.  The 
nod  and  the  troubled  expression  said  plainer  than 
words,  "  Don't  mind  her,  she's  sick  this  morning 
and  doesn't  mean  what  she  says." 

Henrietta  closed  the  screen  door  quietly  and 
went  round  the  house  with  lagging  steps.  She 
didn't  want  to  go  home.  She  had  hoped  for 
a  visit  with  Minnie. 

She  went  down  the  street,  her  beautiful  black 
brows  arching  in  a  frown.  What  a  disagree- 
able woman  Mrs.  Haswell  was !  How  could 
Mr.  Haswell  ever  have  picked  her  out  for  a 
wife? 

She  was  so  busy  with  her  thoughts  that  she 
scarcely  heard  the  patter  of  running  feet  and 
turned  suddenly  to  see  Minnie  standing  beside 
her. 

"Why,  Min,  what's  the  matter?  "  she  said  in 
alarm,  for  Minnie's  sunny  face  was  clouded,  her 
eyes  full  of  tears. 

"  Oh,  Henrietta,  I  was  so  afraid  you'd  be  mad 
at  what  Ma  said.  She  didn't  mean  it,  Henrietta. 
She's  sick  this  morning.  She  can  hardly  stand 
up.  She's  —  she's  not  well  any  of  the  time,  and 
the  doctor  says  she's  got  to  go  to  the  hospital  for 
an  operation,  and  she  won't.  We  can't  get  her 
to,  and  father's  most  worried  to  death.  He 
can't  do  a  thing  with  her.  He  — " 

Henrietta's  arms  went  round  Minnie  in  a  tight 


TURNED     SUDDENLY     TO    SEE     MINNIE     STANDING    BESIDE 
HER" 


Henrietta  Receives  a  Gift  25 

clasp  and  she  tried  to  stop  the  tears  that  came  in 
torrents. 

"  Now,  don't  you  think  a  thing  about  it,  Min. 
I  didn't  mind  a  bit;  really,  I  didn't.  I  knew  she 
was  sick  or  she  wouldn't  have  been  so  cross. 
She's  nearly  always  nice  to  me." 

"  She  likes  you,  Henrietta,  honest,  she  does. 
Only  yesterday  she  was  sayin'  that  you  had  the 
prettiest  blue  eyes  she  ever  saw,  and  you  looked 
so  truthful  out  of  them.  She  just  loves  to  see 
'em  flash  and  get  black  like  they  do  when  you're 
mad." 

Minnie  pattered  back  up  the  street  and  turned 
in  the  picket  gate  hurriedly. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Henrietta?"  Mr. 
Haswell  asked. 

"  Oh,  nothing.  I  just  wanted  to  tell  her  some- 
thing." 

"  Was  Ma  cross  with  her?" 

"  A  little,  but  Henrietta  didn't  mind.  She 
knows  how  Ma  feels." 

"  Come  here  a  minute,  Minnie."  Mr.  Has- 
well made  a  place  for  her  on  the  seat  beside  him 
and  put  an  arm  round  her  tenderly. 

"  Be  good  to  Ma,  dear,"  he  said,  and  there 
was  a  catch  in  his  voice.  "  She's  not  herself  — 
she's  sick.  She's  got  to  go  to  the  hospital  pretty 
soon,  no  matter  how  she  fights  it.  We  must  help 
her  all  we  can." 


26  Only  Henrietta 

'  Yes,  Pa,  I  know."  The  young  voice  fal- 
tered. 

"  And  don't  mind  if  she's  cross.  Don't  an- 
swer back.  You  have  to  humor  sick  people." 

"  I  know  it.  That's  why  I  ran  after  Henri- 
etta. I  wanted  to  tell  her." 

"  That's  right.  Now  go  in  and  see  what  you 
can  find  to  do." 

Henrietta  hurried  towards  home.  Her  anger 
had  cooled.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to 
hold  malice  against  any  of  Minnie's  family  long. 

Mrs.  Kirby  came  forward  briskly  as  Henri- 
etta reached  her  own  door.  A  smile  leaped  to 
her  eyes  as  she  caught  sight  of  the  child  and  her 
voice  had  a  joyful  note. 

"  Come  in  quickly,  Henrietta,  and  see  what's 
happened!  " 

She  hurried  into  the  bedroom  and  Henrietta 
followed  wonderingly.  A  box  lay  open  on  the 
bed,  its  contents  scattered  on  the  white  spread. 
Henrietta  picked  up  a  little  red  coat.  Beside  it 
lay  a  red  cap  and  a  pair  of  fine  shoes. 

"Why,  who  do  they  belong  to?"  she  asked. 
"  They're  for  a  baby!" 

A  little  low  laugh  came  from  the  lips  of 
Etta  Kirby.  It  was  followed  by  a  smothered 
sob. 

"  I  think,  Henrietta  that  they  must  be  from 
your  father.  They  were  sent  on  from  Vermont. 


Henrietta  Receives  a  Gift  27 

They  have  my  address  —  there  —  at  the  post- 
office." 

Henrietta  picked  up  the  brown  wrapping  pa- 
per that  had  dropped  to  the  floor  and  examined 
it  closely. 

"  But  it  says  Mrs.  Etta  Cros  — " 

Mrs.  Kirby  took  the  paper  from  her  daugh- 
ter's hands  and  put  it  into  the  kitchen  stove. 

"  I  changed  my  name  when  I  came  out  here, 
Henrietta,"  she  said  briefly. 

"  But  how  could  you,  Mother?  I  though) 
people  had  to  keep  their  names." 

Mrs.  Kirby  covered  the  awkward  situation  by 
picking  up  the  little  red  cap  and  setting  it  a-top 
Henrietta's  head.  The  effect  made  them  both 
laugh. 

"  Your  father  left  us  when  you  were  very 
young.  He  evidently  thinks  that  you  are  a  baby 
yet,"  she  said.  "  That's  like  a  man." 

Henrietta  picked  up  the  coat,  drawing  her  hand 
caressingly  over  its  soft  wo.olly  surface.  Sud- 
denly she  gave  a  cry  of  delight. 

"  Mother,  there's  something  in  the  pocket! 
It's  a  little  purse  and  a  letter." 

Mrs.  Kirby  leaned  back  against  the  wall  and 
watched  Henrietta  with  whitening  face.  The 
next  instant  a  shining  gold  piece  lay  in  the 
trembling  little  hands. 

"  Money!  Oh,  isn't  it  splendid!     It'll  buy  you 


28  Only  Henrietta 

a  new  pair  of  shoes  and  a  dress,  won't  it?  How 
much  is  it,  Mother?  " 

"  It  looks  like  twenty  dollars.  Yes,  it  is." 
The  tones  were  level  but  faint. 

"  And  the  letter !  Let's  see  what  he  says. 
Maybe  he's  coming  home.  Oh,  I'm  so  happy. 
Now  I  can  tell  the  girls  that  I  have  a  father  and 
that  he  sends  us  things.  Listen !  Why,  what 
does  it  mean?  He  begins,  'Dear  Hen  — 
yetty!'" 

"  It  means,  dear,"  the  words  came  with  an- 
guish, "  that  he  called  you  that.  It  was  your 
own  baby  word  for  Henrietta." 

"  *  Dear  Hen  —  yetty,'  "  the  child  spelled 
slowly  and  carefully.  "  '  It  has  been  a  long  time 
since  you  have  heard  from  me.  Perhaps  I  don't 
deserve  to  live  in  your  memory.  The  little 
things  I  am  sending  will  remind  you  that  I  am 
still  living  and  thinking  of  you.  Get  something 
you  very  much  want  with  the  gold  piece  —  a  big 
dolly  or  a  tea  set,  and  perhaps  some  day  I  may 
be  able  to  send  you  more.'  ' 

There  was  no  signature;  not  so  much  as  the 
word  "  father."  Henrietta  read  the  note  over 
for  the  second  time  and,  as  she  read,  indignation 
and  contempt  changed  the  clear  blue  of  her  eyes 
to  midnight  darkness. 

When  she  had  finished  she  tore  the  letter 
into  bits  which  she  flung  with  fury  through  the 


Henrietta  Receives  a  Gift          29 

open  window.     The  gold  piece  followed  swiftly. 
Mrs.  Kirby  gasped. 

"  Henrietta,  what  do  you  mean?  What  are 
you  doing?  " 

"  I  won't  touch  his  old  money!  "  the  child 
flamed.  "I  hate  him!  Hate  him!  He  didn't 
say  one  word  about  you  or  send  you  a  thing.  He 
can  keep  his  old  presents.  A  dolly!  A  tea 
set!!  When  we  haven't  anybody  to  buy  us  a 
loaf  of  bread.  Why  doesn't  he  come  and  take 
care  of  us  if  he's  thinking  about  us?  " 

She  was  in  the  act  of  sending  the  cap  and  coat 
after  the  money  when  her  mother  stopped  her. 

"  Henrietta !     We  can't  afford  to  throw  away 
money,  no  matter  how  much  we  despise  it,  and 
these   little   things   will   keep   some   child   warm 
next  winter.     Go  and  pick  the  money  up." 
"  I  don't  want  it.     I  won't  have  it." 
"  Do  as  I  tell  you,  Henrietta." 
The  child  obeyed  with  lagging  steps.     When 
she  returned,    the   coat   and   cap   had   been   put 
away  on  the  top  shelf  of  the  old  walnut  ward- 
robe.    The  door  that  had,   for   a  brief  instant, 
opened  into  Etta  Kirby's  past  closed  again  and 
the  bolt  slipped. 


CHAPTER  III 

IN   THE    GARDEN    OF   THE    GODS 

IT  was  early  in  July  that  Henrietta  awoke  one 
morning  with  a  feeling  of  pleasant  anticipation. 
She  wondered  for  a  minute  what  it  was  all  about, 
and  then  remembering,  flew  out  of  bed  and  be- 
gan drawing  on  her  stockings  with  eager  haste. 
How  could  she  have  forgotten  for  a  single  in- 
stant! She  was  going  with  the  girls  over  to  the 
Garden  of  the  Gods  for  a  picnic. 

Her  mother  was  busy  preparing  breakfast 
when  she  entered  the  kitchen.  The  odor  of  coffee 
floated  to  her  pleasantly.  She  made  haste  to  set 
the  table,  humming  a  merry  tune  as  she  got  out 
the  knives  and  forks,  the  spoons  and  plates. 

"  I  do  hope  my  cake  is  good,"  she  said  to  her 
mother,  peeping  with  concern  into  the  tin  box 
on  the  pantry  shelf.  "  It  ought  to  be.  I  took 
two  whole  eggs  just  as  Minnie  told  me,  and  the 
icing  came  out  real  nice  and  soft.  I'd  so  much 
rather  make  a  cake  than  cut  up  bread  for  sand- 
wiches, and  I  don't  think  it  costs  a  bit  more  in 
the  end.  You  have  to  have  so  many  kinds  of 

30 


In  the  Garden  of  the  Gods         31 

fillings  for  sandwiches,  and  Lucy  Gates  always 
turns  up  her  nose  if  the  dressing  isn't  just  right 
for  the  lettuce.  She  says  sometimes  they  take  as 
many  as  six  eggs  to  make  the  dressing.  Fancy! 
I'm  going  to  cut  the  cake  so  as  to  leave  a  piece  for 
your  lunch." 

"No;  don't  cut  it,  dear.  It  dries  up  so 
quickly.  Just  bring  me  a  piece  if  there's  any  left. 
I  shan't  have  time  for  lunch  to-day." 

"  Oh,  yes;  let  me,  please.  There  might  not  be 
any  left.  I  was  to  take  cake  for  everybody." 

"  I  know.  That's  why  you  mustn't  cut  it. 
You  must  always  keep  up  your  end;  do  your 
share.  By  the  way,  you  may  look  in  my  purse 
and  get  a  quarter.  You  may  need  something 
besides  carfare." 

"  Oh,  Mother,  can  you  spare  it?  Of  course  I 
wouldn't  think  of  spending  it  unless  I  just  had 
to.  I'll  only  need  carfare  one  way,  for  Mr.  Has- 
well  is  going  to  come  for  us  in  his  surrey.  I 
think  it's  awful  good  of  him,  for  he's  so  worried 
about  Mrs.  Haswell.  She's  dreadful  sick  from 
her  operation.  At  first  Minnie  thought  she 
ought  not  to  go  to-day,  but  there  wasn't  anything 
she  could  do  at  home,  her  mother  bein'  in  the 
hospital.  Her  Aunt  Amelia  takes  care  of  every- 
thing just  fine.  I  don't  see  why  Mr.  Haswell 
didn't  marry  Aunt  Amelia.  She's  a  heap  nicer 
than  Mrs.  Haswell,  and  not  a  bit  like  an  old 


32  Only  Henrietta 

maid.  She  almost  never  puts  newspapers  on  the 
kitchen  floor  for  people  to  hop  over,  and  Minnie 
says  she  hasn't  washed  a  door  knob  or  scrubbed 
the  railing  on  the  front  porch  since  she's  been 
there.  Minnie  says  she  don't  'spose  you  could 
handle  the  pots  and  kettles  with  white  kid  gloves 
on  like  you  can  when  her  mother's  home,  but 
she  says  nobody's  hardly  ever  cross,  and  Benny 
can  have  the  dog  in  the  house  whenever  he 
likes.  Do  you  think  it  would  look  all  right  to 
wrap  the  cake  up  in  a  red  napkin?  Or  would 
you  put  a  paper  round  it?  Lucy  says  they  never 
use  red  napkins." 

"  There  is  some  white  tissue  paper  in  my  top 
bureau  drawer,  Henrietta.  You  might  take 
that.  Is  the  icing  hard,  so  it  won't  stick?" 

"  Pretty  hard.  It  would  stick  to  the  napkin 
anyway.  We're  going  to  have  a  fine  lunch. 
The  Lee  girls  are  going  to  take  hard  boiled  eggs 
because  they  have  chickens  and  can  get  them 
fresh.  Min's  going  to  take  sandwiches,  and 
Lucy's  going  to  take  potato  chips  and  fudge. 
She  always  picks  out  the  easy  things." 

It  was  a  beautiful  day  and  Good  Springs 
basked  contentedly  in  the  warm  sunshine. 

Good  Springs  was  unique  in  its  way.  It  was 
little  like  the  ordinary  Western  town.  The  fact 
that  it  was  a  celebrated  health  resort  gave  it  dis- 
tinction; not  only  distinction,  but  aristocratic  in- 


33 

habitants.  Cascade  Avenue  boasted  its  man- 
sions. Beautiful  Broadmore  with  its  pictur- 
esque country  roads  winding  in  and  out  among  the 
pines  to  the  south,  counted  its  millionaires  by  the 
dozen.  The  exclusive  North  End  placarded  its 
rights  to  exclusiveness  by  advertising  building 
lots  at  prohibitive  prices. 

But  to  the  west,  out  toward  the  old  Peak  that 
reared  a  friendly  head  against  a  blue  sky,  a  new 
colony  had  sprung  up,  bidding  fair  to  hold  its 
own  against  the  North  End.  If  one  could  not 
manage  to  build  in  the  most  exclusive  portion  of 
the  city,  the  West  Side  was  next  best. 

It  was  a  little  crude  yet,  because  it  was  new. 
A  few  old  cottages  backed  up  against  pretentious 
ones;  neglected  gardens  ran  counter  to  velvety 
lawns. 

Mrs.  Kirby's  house  was  old.  Across  the 
street  stood  the  stately  dwelling  of  the  Mont- 
gomery Gates',  with  its  many  gables  and  wide  ver- 
andas. Its  lawn  sloped  gently  to  the  street, 
spoiled,  so  Mrs.  Kirby  thought,  by  indiscrimi- 
nate flower  beds  and  young  saplings  constantly  at 
war  with  chilling  winds  and  late  frosts. 

A  block  down  the  street  Mr.  Haswell's  pretty, 
neat  cottage  stood  forth  prominently.  Mr. 
Haswell  was  a  retired  contractor.  He  had  built 
his  home  with  care  and  understanding.  The 
foundation  had  a  substantial  look;  the  veranda 


34  Only  Henrietta 

was  wide  and  sunny.  It  was  not  an  artistic 
house,  but  it  was  home-like  and  neat.  Henri- 
etta loved  the  back  yard  that  ran  up  to  the  shel- 
tering hills  where  Minnie's  little  two-room  play- 
house nestled. 

Across  the  street  from  the  Haswells'  lived  the 
Lees.  The  Lee  house,  like  that  of  the  Gates', 
was  ornate  and  pretentious.  It  had  been  re- 
modeled, and  some  of  the  neighbors  who  thought 
Mrs.  Lee  a  bit  snobbish  always  spoke  of  its 
having  a  Queen  Anne  front  and  a  Mary  Anne 
back. 

Henrietta's  friends  were  the  result  of  pro- 
pinquity rather  than  choice.  She  had  met  them 
all  at  the  Washington  school  a  few  blocks  away, 
and  while  they  were  inclined  to  patronize  her,  they 
seldom  left  her  out  of  their  festivities. 

Henrietta  was  adaptable  and  responsive;  she 
was  kind  and  sympathetic.  Sometimes  she  was 
tactless,  and  her  high  temper  was  a  blight  that 
friends  spoke  of  with  concern,  but,  on  the  whole, 
she  was  dependable,  and  her  sincerity  was  never 
questioned. 

u  Henrietta  may  get  awful  mad  at  you  and  say 
horrid  things,"  Minnie  Haswell  once  defended, 
"  but  she  ain't  goin'  round  sayin'  'em  behind  your 
back  and  she  ain't  tellin'  your  faults  to  anybody 
that'll  stand  still  long  enough  to  listen.  She  hits 
right  out  from  the  shoulder.  Father  says  she 


In  the  Garden  of  the  Gods         35 

has  character,  and  that  if  she's  trained  right  she'll 
be  a  wonder." 

On  this  July  morning  Henrietta  was  as  bright 
and  happy  as  the  fat  red-breasted  robin  that 
hopped  about  in  the1  back  yard  searching  for 
worms. 

"  There's  that  saucy  robin  again,"  she  called 
to  her  mother  as  she  wrapped  the  cake  in  the 
white  tissue  paper  and  tied  it  with  a  string. 
"  He  has  the  most  dreadful  nerve.  I  spoke  to 
him  yesterday  about  taking  our  worms  and  he 
promised  to  do  better,  but  —  oh,  Mother,  come 
quick  and  look  at  his  darling  red  breast.  He's 
hopped  right  up  on  the  steps.  He  isn't  a  bit 
afraid.  See!  " 

Mrs.  Kirby  came  to  the  door. 

"  He  lives  in  the  cottonwood  tree  round  in 
front,  Henrietta.  We  must  put  some  bread- 
crumbs out  for  him.  Have  you  everything  ready 
now?  Don't  forget  your  sweater.  There's 
likely  to  be  a  storm  this  afternoon,  although  the 
sky  is  clear  now.  Don't  climb  too  high  on  the 
rocks,  and  be  ready  for  Mr.  Haswell  when  he 
comes  for  you." 

"  Yes'm,  and  don't  worry  about  me.  If  the 
storm  comes  we  can  get  to  shelter  somewhere, 
but  it  won't,  I  know." 

Mrs.  Kirby  kissed  the  confident  upturned  face. 
She  stood  in  the  doorway  watching  Henrietta  un- 


36  Only  Henrietta 

til  she  reached  the  Haswell  gate.  Then  she 
turned  and  plunged  into  her  work  with  energy 
born  of  necessity. 

It  seemed  to  Henrietta  that  Aunt  Amelia's 
face  was  very  grave  as  she  opened  the  kitchen 
door,  in  response  to  her  knock. 

"Is  Mrs.  Haswell  worse?"  Henrietta  in- 
quired, forgetting  to  lower  her  voice. 

Aunt  Amelia  put  a  finger  to  her  lips  and  looked 
toward  the  back  stairs  anxiously. 

"  A  little,  Henrietta,  but  don't  tell  Minnie. 
There  ain't  no  use  to  worry  her  and  spoil  her 
day." 

She  spoke  in  a  whisper  and  Henrietta  stood  in 
awed  silence. 

"You  won't  say  anything,  will  you?"  Aunt 
Amelia  cautioned.  "  Try  to  keep  her  happy. 
I'm  afraid  there's  a  sorrow  in  store  for  her." 

Henrietta  promised  solemnly  and  went  on 
up  stairs  to  Minnie's  room  in  the  half  story 
above. 

It  was  a  pleasant  room.  The  dormer  window 
in  the  gable  to  the  east  let  in  a  flood  of  sunshine, 
and  although  it  was  early,  and  Minnie  had  been 
busy,  everything  was  in  perfect  order. 

Henrietta  loved  Minnie's  room.  To  many 
people  it  would  have  seemed  stiff  and  severe,  but 
its  plainness  was  not  without  charm.  Henrietta 
loved  its  privacy.  To  have  a  room  like  that  all 


In  the  Garden  of  the  Gods         37 

one's  own !  A  room  with  a  bolt  on  the  inside 
where  one  could  shut  out  the  world. 

To  be  sure,  Lucy  Gates  made  fun  of  it,  but 
Lucy  Gates  was  never  satisfied  with  anything. 
She  turned  up  her  nose  at  the  crazyquilt  that  lay 
so  gay  and  bright  on  the  foot  of  Minnie's  im- 
maculate bed.  She  scorned  the  toilet  set  in  the 
plush  box  on  the  little  oak  bureau  —  a  set  that 
was  never  opened,  except  on  state  occasions;  and 
she  had  once  confided  to  Henrietta  that  the  chairs 
were  common  kitchen  chairs  painted  white,  if  she 
looked  under  the  cushions  she  could  see  for  her- 
self. 

Minnie's  eyes  showed  traces  of  recent  tears, 
and  she  paused  in  the  act  of  putting  on  her  wide 
sombrero  hat  to  speak  to  Henrietta. 

"  I  don't  feel  a  bit  as  if  I  ought  to  go,  with 
Mother  lying  up  there  so  sick  " —  her  eyes  wan- 
dered through  the  window  in  the  direction  of  the 
hospital — "but  Aunt  Amelia  seems  to  think  it 
is  all  right." 

"  Of  course  it  is.  You  couldn't  do  anything  if 
you  stayed,  Min." 

"  I  know  —  but  she's  had  a  bad  night.  Father 
didn't  get  home  until  morning  and  then  he 
couldn't  eat  any  breakfast.  I  wanted  to  go  up 
and  see  her  but  the  doctor  wouldn't  let  me,  he  — " 

A  sob  choked  back  the  words. 

Henrietta   stood   still   regarding   Minnie  with 


38  Only  Henrietta 

sympathetic  eyes.  She  didn't  know  what  to  say. 
She  was  afraid  if  she  said  anything  she  would 
cry  too. 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  spoil  everything  for  you," 
Minnie  went  on.  "  Come,  I'm  ready." 

She  picked  up  the  red  sweater  that  lay  over 
the  back  of  a  chair  and  followed  Henrietta  down 
the  stairs  silently. 

The  Lee  girls,  Harriet  and  Hortense,  com- 
monly known  as  "  Hatty  "  and  "  Hotie,"  were 
waiting  on  the  front  porch,  and  the  four  wended 
their  way  down  the  street  in  the  direction  of  the 
Gates'  house.  Just  as  they  reached  the  gate 
Lucy  came  out  the  front  door  and  ran  down  the 
walk  gayly. 

"  Mercy,  you  look  as  if  you  were  going  to 
a  party  instead  of  a  picnic,"  Hatty  Lee  said 
with  her  usual  frankness.  "  What  are  you  going 
to  do  with  a  pink  parasol  in  the  Garden  of  the 
Gods?" 

"  Hold  it  over  my  head,  silly.  What  did  you 
suppose?  " 

"  It'll  be  an  awful  nuisance.  Somebody  will 
have  to  be  carrying  it  for  you  all  the  time." 

"  Thank  you.     I   expect  to   carry  it  myself." 

"  And  if  she  gets  tired  we  can  use  it  to  hang 
the  lunch  boxes  on.  See,  slip  them  through  this 
way  and  two  take  ends."  Henrietta  suited  the 
words  to  action. 


In  the  Garden  of  the  Gods          39 

"  No,  you  won't,"  Lucy  said,  whisking  the 
parasol  out  of  Henrietta's  hands.  "  Leave  my 
things  alone!  " 

Minnie  stepped  into  the  breach. 

"  Let's  not  quarrel  before  we  get  started,"  she 
said.  "  Come  on.  We've  just  about  time  to 
catch  the  car.  Jenny  Howe  said  to  be  there  at 
ten." 

Jenny  Howe  was  a  sixteen-year-old  girl,  the 
daughter  of  a  man  who  ran  a  livery  barn  half 
way  between  Good  Springs  and  the  village  be- 
yond. She  often  acted  as  guide  to  younger  girls 
who  hired  donkeys  at  her  father's  barn. 

"  I  do  hope  I  can  get  Black  Joe,  to-day," 
Lucy  said  as  she  made  herself  comfortable  for 
the  three-mile  ride.  "  He's  the  best  donkey  in 
the  barn.  Why  don't  you  try  Buttercup,  Hatty, 
he's  good,  too." 

'Why,  are  we  going  to  take  donkeys?" 
Henrietta  asked,  surprised,  "  I  thought  we  were 
going  to  walk." 

''  We  always  take  donkeys,"  Lucy  replied  with 
the  assurance  that  accompanies  a  full  purse. 
"  It's  too  far  to  think  of  walking." 

"  But  you  didn't  tell  me  you  were  going  to 
ride.  How  much  —  are  the  donkeys  very  ex- 
pensive? " 

"No;  only  twenty-five  cents  an  hour,  and  we 
hardly  ever  use  them  more  than  three  —  some- 


40  Only  Henrietta 

times  four.  Didn't  you  bring  any  money?  If 
you  didn't,  we  could  lend  you  some." 

"  I  didn't  know  there  was  anything  we'd  need 
money  for.  I  think  maybe  I'd  better  go  back. 
I  could  catch  the  next  car.  But  you  must  take 
my  cake.  It  is  the  only  one  we  brought,  you 
know." 

"  Oh,  for  goodness'  sakes,  don't  back  out 
now,"  Hatty  said  disgustedly.  "  Seventy-five 
cents  isn't  a  killing  matter.  I  have  an  extra  dol- 
lar and  so  has  Hote.  We'd  just  as  soon  lend 
you  some." 

"  But  I  don't  like  to  borrow  without  asking 
Mother.  I  think,  if  you  don't  mind,  I  won't 

go." 

"  Wait  until  we  get  there,"  Minnie  said,  giv- 
ing Henrietta  a  wink.  "  Maybe  we  can't  get  the 
donkeys,  anyway.  Sometimes  they  are  all  out." 

But  to-day  was  an  exception.  There  were  any 
number  of  donkeys,  including  Black  Joe  and  But- 
tercup. Lucy  made  straight  for  her  favorite. 
Hatty  Lee  and  her  sister  followed  briskly. 

Minnie  hung  back  with  Henrietta. 

"  Don't  back  out,  Henrietta,"  she  said  coax- 
ingly.  "  It  would  spoil  everything.  I  have 
some  extra  money.  It's  all  my  own,  too.  Fa- 
ther gave  it  to  me  for  my  birthday.  You  needn't 
pay  me  back,  ever,  unless  you  want  to.  If  you 
do,  you  can  take  your  time." 


41 

She  pushed  a  dollar  into  Henrietta's  hand  and 
closed  her  fingers  over  it. 

"  But,  Min  —  I  don't  like  to  —  I  — " 

"  Please,  Henrietta.  The  girls  will  think  it's 
so  awfully  cheap  not  to.  Lucy  will  be  sure  to 
say  something  about  it  at  school.  Come  on. 
It's  my  treat." 

Henrietta's  pride  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  I'll  just  borrow  it,  then,"  she  said,  wonder- 
ing how  she  would  ever  pay  it  back,  and  dreading 
to  tell  her  mother.  "  You're  sure  you  won't  mind 
if  I  can't  do  it  right  away?  Sometimes  Mother's 
money  is  awful  slow  coming  in.  You'd  be  sur- 
prised how  bad  some  of  the  rich  people  are  about 
paying." 

Lucy  was  already  on  Black  Joe  when  Minnie 
and  Henrietta  reached  the  barn.  Hatty  was  in- 
specting Buttercup  critically. 

"You're  sure  he's  next  best  to  Black  Joe?" 
she  inquired  of  Jenny  Howe. 

"  He's  fair,"  Jenny  replied  with  a  yawn.  In 
her  opinion  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a 
good  donkey.  They  were  all  very  slow  and  stu- 
pid. 

"Which  is  the  next  best?"  Hotie  asked. 

"  Bryan's  pretty  good,  but  he's  apt  to  kick  if 
you  don't  do  just  as  he  wants  you  to.  He  goes 
well,  though." 

Hotie  took  Bryan  after  a  moment's  delibera- 


42  Only  Henrietta 

tion,  and  Henrietta  and  Minnie  selected  two 
beasts  of  unknown  habits. 

It  was  a  gay  procession  that  left  the  half-way 
house  fifteen  minutes  later  with  lunch  boxes 
strapped  securely  to  saddles.  Five  hearts  beat 
high  in  anticipation. 

But  if  it  was  a  gay  procession,  it  was  also  a 
slow  one.  Black  Joe  refused  to  lead.  He  in- 
sisted upon  backing  into  everything  in  sight  until 
Lucy  lost  patience  and  wanted  to  trade  him  off 
for  Buttercup,  who  plowed  steadily  forward, 
steering  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left. 

"Not  on  your  life!"  Hatty  called  back  in 
answer  to  Lucy's  pleadings.  "  You  talked  all 
the  way  over  about  Joe.  You  got  him  first,  now 
keep  him !  " 

By  the  time  they  had  reached  the  Garden, 
Lucy  was  cross  and  out  of  temper.  Black  Joe 
had  protested  every  step  of  the  way  and  her 
arm  was  tired  from  beating  him  with  the  slender 
switch  that  had  proved  ineffectual. 

The  hour  following  the  entrance  into  the 
Garden  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten  by  Henri- 
etta. For  two  years  she  had  been  hearing  about 
its  wonders,  and  now  she  was  face  to  face  with 
them.  It  seemed  too  good  to  be  true. 

When  they  reached  the  beautiful  red  rocks, 
where  nature  had  crudely  carved  the  faces  of 
people  and  animals,  her  joy  knew  no  bounds. 


In  the  Garden  of  the  Gods         43 

"  Look  up,  look  up !  "  Minnie  cried  often. 
"  See  the  Kissing  Camels,  the  "Seal  and  the  Bearl 
Wait  a  minute  and  you'll  see  Punch  and  Judy, 
and  the  Dutchman  smoking  his  pipe !  " 

Henrietta  gazed  excitedly,  but  the  figures  were 
not  quite  clear  to  her.  When  she  did  discover 
the  Dutchman  she  was  delighted. 

"Why,  of  course!  I  see  him  now.  It's  as 
plain  as  anything,  isn't  it?  But  I  can't  find  the 
Kissing  Camels.  Hurry,  please,  and  make  me 
see  them." 

Minnie's  litttle  brown  hand  traced  the  lines 
patiently  and  at  last  Henrietta  caught  the  vision. 
She  gazed  until  her  head,  uplifted  in  rapture, 
grew  dizzy  with  the  sights.  Then  she  turned 
her  attention  to  the  wild  flowers  that  were  thrust- 
ing their  faces  up  from  ferny  dells  and  moss  cov- 
ered rocks. 

"  I  guess  this  is  about  as  near  heaven  as  any- 
body ever  gets,"  she  said  to  Minnie  with  a  flut- 
tering sigh. 

"  I  guess  so.  It's  the  Garden  of  the  Gods. 
We  ought  to  be  near." 

They  loitered  along,  forgetting  that  time  was 
money;  that  they  were  paying  for  the  delights 
at  the  rate  of  twenty-five  cents  an  hour.  Henri- 
etta remembered  suddenly,  and,  jumping  off  her 
donkey,  ran  over  to  a  tree  and  broke  off  a  long 
switch  which  she  peeled  with  haste.  She  left 


44  Only  Henrietta 

only  a  few  leaves  at  the  end  as  she  had  seen 
Lucy  do. 

But  Colorado  Canary  refused  to  forsake  his 
comfortable  gait,  and,  by  the  time  they  reached 
a  place  suitable  for  a  picnic,  three  hours  had 
flown. 

When  somebody  mentioned  the  time  Henri- 
etta's heart  sank  with  a  sickening  thud.  What 
should  she  do?  She  had  no  right  to  spend  sev- 
enty-five cents  —  more,  for  it  would  take  as  long 
to  go  back  as  it  had  taken  to  come. 

She  sat  so  still  thinking,  that  she  didn't  notice 
the  other  girls  were  busy  getting  out  the  lunch. 
Lucy's  commanding  voice  brought  her  to  her 
senses. 

"  Henrietta's  dazed  by  all  these  wonders,"  she 
said  with  a  laugh.  "  I  suppose  you've  never  seen 
anything  so  grand  before,  have  you?  Where 
was  it  you  came  from,  Henrietta?" 

Henrietta  couldn't  think  for  a  moment.  Her 
mother  seldom  spoke  of  their  old  home. 

"  From  Ver  —  Vermont,  I  think."  Henri- 
etta hesitated. 

"  She  thinks!  Don't  you  know  where  you 
came  from?  " 

"  It's  been  such  a  long  time  since  we  left,  and 
I  wasn't  very  old  —  almost  a  baby,"  explained 
Henrietta. 

"  Vermont's  an  awful  small  state.     It's  one  of 


In  the  Garden  of  the  Gods    45 

the  smallest  in  the  universe,"  Hotie  Lee  re- 
marked. 

"  You  mean  union,  Hotie,"  her  sister  re- 
minded. 

"  Well,  union,  then.     But  it's  little !  " 

"  I  guess  it  isn't  any  worse  than  Kansas,"  Min- 
nie said,  her  ire  rising.  "  Kansas  is  an  awful 
funny  state."  The  Lees  had  migrated  from 
Kansas  in  a  prairie  schooner.  "  My  father  said 
that  when  all  those  tourists  came  in  last  summer 
from  everywhere,  and  the  hotels  was  all  full, 
they  thought  they'd  put  hay  in  the  parks  for 
people  to  sleep  on,  but  they  was  afraid  the  folks 
from  Kansas  would  eat  it,  and  — " 

"  Oh,  that  was  a  joke,  Minnie  Haswell.  I 
heard  that  too.  They  have  'em  on  all  states, 
like  '  you've  got  to  show  me  '  if  you're  from  Mis- 
souri. Kansas  is  a  wonderful  place.  You  ought 
to  see  Sand  Center  where  we  came  from." 

"And  they  have  cy  —  cy — 'perfectly  awful 
wind  storms  there,"  Minnie  continued,  groping 
for  the  right  word.  u  People  have  to  build 
storm  cellars  and  run  for  'em  when  they  see  a 
cloud—" 

"  Yes,  an'  here  in  Colorado  where  you 
was  born,  you're  likely  to  get  killed  by  lightning 
most  any  old  time.  And  talk  about  wind  — 
well!  " 

"  'Spose  we   set  the   table,"   Hotie   Lee   sug- 


46  Only  Henrietta 

gested,  scenting  a  quarrel.  She  got  out  a  tea 
cloth  from  her  box. 

Henrietta  jumped  up  from  the  ground. 

"I'll  get  some  flowers,"  she  said.  "We'll 
put  them  on  the  table.  We  can  put  them  in  a 
drinking  cup.  They'll  make  things  taste  better." 

She  was  back  in  a  few  minutes  with  an  armful 
of  bluebells  hugged  to  her  heart. 

"  They're  so  beautiful,"  she  said  as  she  ar- 
ranged them  in  the  cup.  "  And  there's  loads  and 
loads  of  them.  Who  ever  plants  them  is  awful 
extravagant  with  seeds." 

"  Nobody  plants  them.  They  just  grow." 
Hotie  was  scornful. 

"Of  course;  this  is  God's  Garden.  I  forgot. 
It  looks  like  it,  too,  with  so  many  beautiful  things 
around.  It  makes  something  come  up  in  my 
throat  when  I  think  about  it.  A  lump  that  won't 
go  down."  Henrietta  swallowed,  and  then 
laughed  to  hide  her  confusion.  But  she  couldn't 
hide  the  tears  that  came  with  the  lump,  and  she 
turned  her  back  and  began  tugging  at  the  string 
on  the  box  that  held  her  cake. 

"  I  do  hope  it's  good,"  she  3aid  when  she 
turned  round  again,  "  but  —  oh  dear,  just  look ! 
It's  broken.  Why,  how  do  you  'spose  —  oh,  it 
must  have  been  when  the  donkey  loped  that  one 
time.  I  felt  it  bouncing  up  behind." 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  made  it  sad,  too,"  Lucy 


In  the  Garden  of  the  Gods    47 

remarked,  lifting  a  crumbly  piece  from  the  box. 

Henrietta  lifted  the  other  half  and  looked  at 
it  closely. 

"  No;  that  must  have  happened  when  I  baked 
it.  I  watched  it  so  carefully,  too.  But  our  stove 
is  old  —  it  does  that  way  sometimes,  and — " 

She  stopped  still  in  her  explanations,  for  Lucy 
and  Hatty  were  exchanging  amused  glances,  even 
turning  their  backs  to  laugh. 

"  Hatty,  I  think  you're  too  mean  for  anything 
to  act  that  way,"  her  sister  said,  genuinely  angry. 
"  And  I'm  going  to  tell  Mother,  so  I  am.  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed.  Anybody's  cake  is  likely 
to  fall.  Don't  you  care,  Henrietta.  I  just  love 
sad  cake.  Really  I  do." 

"  I  like  it,  too,"  Minnie  insisted.  "  And  so 
does  Mother,  and  you  know  what  a  fine  cook  she 
is—" 

"  /  don't,"  Henrietta  broke  in  stoutly.  "  I 
hate  anything  that  isn't  right  and  beautiful.  You 
don't  need  to  eat  it  if  you  don't  want  to.  I'm 
sorry  it's  the  only  one,  though.  If  you  don't 
mind,  I'm  going  to  sit  over  here  on  the  rocks  and 
look  at  the  flowers  while  you  eat.  I'm  not 
hungry.  I  couldn't  eat  a  bite  when  there's  so 
much  to  see." 

"  Oh,  Henrietta,  come  on,  don't  act  that  way." 
Minnie  sat  down  on  the  ground  beside  her  and 
thrust  a  sandwich  into  her  hand.  Hattie  Lee,  a 


48  Only  Henrietta 

little  ashamed,  sank  down  on  the  other  side,  and 
peace  reigned  again. 

The  afternoon  was  so  filled  with  pleasure  that 
no  one  noticed  the  threatening  clouds  that  hov- 
ered over  the  Peak  to  the  west. 

Henrietta,  always  observing,  was  the  first  to 
discover  it. 

"  We're  going  to  have  a  storm,"  she  said  to 
Minnie,  "  and  there  isn't  a  speck  of  shelter. 
Don't  you  think  we  ought  to  start  home?  " 

Almost  with  the  words  a  loud  clap  of  thunder 
resounded  among  the  high  rocks,  and  Lucy  Gates 
screamed  in  terror. 

"  Why  didn't  some  one  tell  me  it  was  clouding 
up?"  she  demanded,  gazing  from  one  to  the 
other  in  alarm.  She  was  deathly  afraid  of 
thunder  storms.  "Oh,  oh,  see  the  lightning! 
Oh,  let  us  go  somewhere,  quick!  " 

She  looked  about,  terror-stricken.  Jenny 
Howe  had  fled  for  the  donkeys  that  stood  bray- 
ing and  trembling  with  fright.  Even  dumb  ani- 
mals in  Colorado  know  the  dangers  of  an  electric 
storm. 

"Get  your  donkeys;  hurry!"  Jenny  called 
back.  "  We  must  make  haste.  It  looks  like  an 
awful  storm.  Lucy,  catch  Joe;  he's  afraid  of 
lightning.  He'll  run  home  without  you." 

"Oh,  I  can't,  I  can't,  I'm  afraid  of  him!" 
Lucy  screamed,  shrinking  and  wringing  her  hands. 


In  the  Garden  of  the  Gods         49 

"  I  want  Henrietta's  donkey.  She  can  have 
Joe." 

"  All  right,"  Henrietta  said,  jumping  off  Colo- 
rado Canary's  back  and  catching  Joe,  who  was 
braying  and  kicking.  The  touch  of  her  gentle 
hand  seemed  to  reassure  the  animal.  He  let  her 
mount  and  started  off  down  the  road  on  a  run. 

The  rain  fell  in  torrents.  The  donkeys,  eager 
for  shelter,  scampered  home  hastily.  Henrietta 
was  too  much  a  child  of  nature  to  fear  her  moods, 
and,  riding  close  to  Lucy,  tried  to  allay  her  fears. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me,"  Lucy  shouted  above  the 
roar  of  the  storm.  "  We're  all  going  to  be 
killed  — oh,  oh!" 

Henrietta  never  knew  how  the  accident  that 
followed  happened.  Perhaps  it  was  a  vivid 
flash  of  lightning  that  made  Lucy  drop  her  reins 
and  put  her  face  down  on  her  saddle  in  a  frenzy. 
Colorado  Canary  leaped  forward  with  a  bound, 
and  Henrietta,  realizing  that  Lucy  would  be 
thrown,  made  a  vain  attempt  to  get  the  reins. 

As  her  donkey  came  up  beside  Lucy's,  he  made 
a  lunge  sidewise,  and  the  point  of  the  pink  para- 
sol that  Lucy  had  tied  to  the  back  of  the  saddle 
earlier  in  the  day,  ran  between  Canary's  ribs 
piercingly.  Canary  gave  a  mad  plunge,  freed 
himself  of  his  rider  and  ran  down  the  road  bray- 
ing loudly. 

Henrietta    gave    one    glance    at   the    crumpled 


50  Only  Henrietta 

form  in  the  roadway  and,  jumping  from  her  own 
donkey,  let  him  scamper  off  after  Canary. 

"  Lucy,"  she  cried,  "  are  you  hurt?  Speak  to 
me!  Tell  me  where  —  where." 

No  answer  came  from  the  silent  form  in  the 
muddy  road.  Henrietta  bent  closer.  A  tiny 
stream  of  blood  trickled  from  Lucy's  forehead, 
down  on  to  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes  were  closed. 

For  a  moment  Henrietta  felt  helpless.  The 
rain  was  coming  down  in  sheets  and  flashes  of 
lightning  bewildered  her.  What  should  she 
do?  Where  were  they,  anyway?  The  road 
was  so  narrow.  She  must  get  Lucy  out  of  it. 
A  passing  team  might  run  over  her. 

She  got  her  bearings  in  a  minute.  They  were 
only  a  little  way  from  the  "  Balanced  Rock  " ;  the 
huge,  tip-tilting  stone  that  Minnie  had  been  so 
anxious  to  have  her  see  a  few  hours  before.  She 
must  get  Lucy  over  to  it  somehow.  It  would 
never  do  to  leave  her  there  in  the  mud  and  water. 

She  scarcely  knew  how  she  managed,  but  the 
feat  was  finally  accomplished  by  lifting  and  pull- 
ing. Lucy  rewarded  her  with  a  fluttering  of  the 
eyelids. 

"Where  am  I?"  she  asked,  dazed.  "What 
has  happened?  " 

"  You're  right  here  by  the  '  Balanced  Rock ' 
and  you've  had  a  mean  fall,  but  you're  all  right 
now,  and  it's  nearly  stopped  raining.  Look,  old 


In  the  Garden  of  the  Gods         51 

Sol  —  that's  what  Mr.  Haswell  calls  him  —  is 
on  the  job  again.  Look  at  him  winking  through 
the  clouds.  I  s'pose  he  thinks  it's  funny  to  see 
us  soaked  like  this.  Are  you  much  hurt,  Lucy? 
See  if  you  can  stand  up.  Here,  lean  on  me.  I 
guess  we've  got  a  good  long  walk  ahead  of  us  un- 
less somebody  passes  by;  why,  what's  the  mat- 
ter?" 

Lucy  had  fallen  down  on  the  ground  again 
in  pain. 

"Oh,  my  foot!"  she  cried.  "I  must  have 
hurt  it.  I  can't  step  on  it.  What  shall  we  do?  " 

"  I  believe  Minnie  is  behind  us,"  Henrietta 
said,  looking  back  up  the  road.  "  But  I  can't  say 
for  sure.  It  was  raining  so  that  I  couldn't  see 
who  went  ahead.  We'll  just  have  to  wait  a 
minute  till  I  think." 

She  had  been  thinking  for  some  minutes  when 
the  sound  of  horses'  feet  splashing  through  the 
mud  and  water  reached  her  ears.  In  another 
instant  a  surrey  pulled  up  beside  the  Rock  and 
Mr.  Haswell's  pleasant  voice  called:  "What's 
happened?  Somebody  hurt?  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Haswell !  Mr.  Haswell!  "  Henrietta 
cried  joyfully.  "  I  just  didn't  know  what  we 
were  going  to  do.  Lucy  had  a  fall  and  sprained 
her  ankle,  I  guess.  Anyway,  she  can't  walk.  I 
didn't  know  how  we  were  ever  going  to  get 
home." 


52  Only  Henrietta 

"  Well,  I  didn't  either  when  I  saw  this  storm 
coming  up,  and  I  hurried  out  here  after  you. 
Had  a  cloudburst  down  at  the  Springs.  Lucky 
you  weren't  drowned  or  struck  by  lightning. 
You  can't  trust  the  old  Peak  when  he  gets  on  a 
rampage  —  generally  floods  everything  out  in 
the  district." 

In  another  minute  he  had  Lucy  comfortably 
ensconced  in  the  back  seat  with  Henrietta's  moth- 
ering arms  around  her,  and  was  off  for  the  half- 
way house  where  he  found  the  rest  of  the  party. 
Jenny  had  taken  the  girls  home  by  a  short  cut 
known  only  to  herself. 

It  took  several  hours  to  dry  the  drenched  cloth- 
ing before  the  fire  which  Mrs.  Howe  built  in  the 
large  sitting-room,  and,  in  the  meantime,  five 
little  girls  were  glad  to  creep  between  warm 
blankets  in  the  old-fashioned  walnut  bed  in  the 
back  bedroom.  Lucy  occupied  a  seat  of  honor 
before  the  fire,  her  foot  having  been  put  into  hot 
water  and  bandaged. 

"  It's  been  a  wonderful  day,  all  except  Lucy's 
getting  hurt  and  the  storm  and  my  cake  falling," 
Henrietta  whispered  to  Minnie  as  they  rode 
home  in  the  early  twilight.  "  And  it  was  so  good 
of  you  to  lend  me  the  dollar.  I  wish  awfully 
that  I  hadn't  had  to  spend  it,  but  expenses  are 
pretty  nearly  always  coming  up,  aren't  they? 
Mother  will  understand  and  manage  somehow." 


In  the  Garden  of  the  Gods         53 

"  You  don't  need  to  worry  about  paying  me 
back,"  Minnie  declared,  giving  the  hand  that  lay 
in  her  own  a  squeeze.  "  I  don't  want  you  to  pay 
me  back,  Henrietta,  because  —  because — "  it 
took  heroic  effort  to  say  it  — "  because  I  knew  all 
the  time  we  had  to  take  donkeys.  I  was  afraid 
if  I  told  you,  you  wouldn't  go  —  and  I  wanted 
you  so  awfully.  Are  you  mad  at  me?  " 

"  No  —  not  mad,  Min.  Only  I  wish  I  had 
known  for  her  sake.  She  has  to  work  so  hard  to 
get  a  whole  dollar  —  and  —  and  there  isn't  any- 
body to  help  her,  you  know,  like  —  a  father." 


CHAPTER  IV 

HENRIETTA    SHARES   A   GRIEF 

THE  Haswell  house  lay  hushed  in  the  solemn 
stillness  of  death.  The  pretty,  white-curtained 
windows  were  obscured  by  drawn  blinds. 

Every  now  and  then  Henrietta  paused  in  her 
dusting  and  glanced  down  the  street.  Sad-eyed 
neighbors  passed  in  and  out  of  the  Haswell  gate, 
or  stood  in  groups  just  outside,  talking. 

"  I  do  wish  Minnie  would  come  down  here 
and  stay  with  us  a  little  while."  Henrietta 
sighed.  "  Her  Aunt  Amelia  tried  to  get  her  to, 
but  she  won't.  She  hasn't  eaten  a  bite  since  her 
mother  died  day  before  yesterday,  and  she's  cried 
till  she  can't  cry  any  more." 

"  Poor  little  girl,"   Mrs.  Kirby  said  softly. 

"  And  Minnie  doesn't  seem  to  remember  how 
awful  cross  her  mother's  been.  She  just  keeps 
talking  of  how  good  she  was,  and  how  hard  she 
worked  for  them  all,  and  how  she  went  without 
things  herself  so  Min  and  Bennie  could  have  'em. 
And,  it's  queer,  but  I  feel  that  way,  too.  When  I 
shut  my  eyes  and  try  to  see  her,  seems  as  if  she's 
always  kind  of  smiling  and  handing  me  a  piece 
of  that  nice  spice  cake  she  used  to  make,  or  ask- 

54 


Henrietta  Shares  a  Grief  55 

ing  me  to  stay  to  dinner  with  Min.  And  some- 
times I  can  hear  her  laugh  —  like  she  used  to 
when  Bennie  said  something  real  cute." 

Henrietta  paused.  A  sob  finished  the  sen- 
tence. A  tear  splashed  down  on  the  show  case 
to  be  instantly  polished  off  with  the  dust  cloth. 

"  Seems  kind  of  funny  for  me  to  be  crying 
about  it,  'cause  I  didn't  like  her  much.  I  guess 
it's  Minnie  that  makes  me  feel  bad." 

"  Death  softens  us  —  or  should,  Henrietta. 
That's  why  we  never  speak  ill  of  the  dead.  Vir- 
tues live  longer  than  faults  in  our  memories." 

Mrs.  Kirby  took  the  dust  cloth  from  the  idle 
fingers. 

"  Suppose  you  run  out  of  doors  for  a  while, 
dear,"  she  urged.  "  I'll  finish  here." 

Henrietta  went  into  the  front  yard  and  stood 
for  a  few  minutes  watching  the  house  down  the 
street  —  the  house  wrapped  in  gloom.  Death 
was  new  to  her.  It  held  nothing  but  terror.  On 
the  corner  Mrs.  Price  stood  talking  with  Mrs. 
Lee  and  Mrs.  McHenry.  As  she  talked  she  ges- 
ticulated with  a  sharp  forefinger.  Mrs.  Mc- 
Henry nodded  knowingly. 

Henrietta  wondered  what  they  were  talking 
about,  but  when  she  made  up  her  mind  to  walk 
slowly  past  them  and  find  out,  they  lowered  their 
voices  and  moved  farther  back  from  the  pave- 
ment. 


56  Only  Henrietta 

She  turned  her  head  so  far  around  to  view 
them  that  she  almost  ran  into  Mrs.  Mumford 
who  lived  up  the  street. 

"  Land  sakes,  Henrietta,  look  where  you  are 
going,"  she  remarked  crossly.  "  You  nearly 
made  me  drop  this  pie.  It's  just  out  of  the  oven, 
too.  Amelia  Harris  ain't  got  much  time  to  cook 
with  a-  funeral  in  the  house  at  two  o'clock." 

A  pie!  Henrietta  gazed  after  Mrs.  Mum- 
ford  in  amazement.  Who  would  touch  a  pie  in 
a  house  stricken  with  grief? 

"Nobody  would  eat  it,  would  they?"  she 
asked,  walking  with  Mrs.  Mumford.  "  How 
could  they  when  —  she's  —  dead?" 

"  People  have  to  eat,  no  matter  who's  dead," 
Mrs.  Mumford  answered  sharply,  and  turned  in 
at  the  gate.  Then  she  called  over  her  shoulder: 

"  You  better  run  along  home,  Henrietta,  this 
ain't  any  place  for  little  girls." 

Henrietta  started  home,  but  at  the  corner  she 
met  Hatty  Lee. 

"  Come  on  over  to  our  house,"  Hatty  invited. 
"  You  can  see  fine  from  our  front  porch.  We'll 
watch  'em  take  in  the  flowers  and  things." 

Henrietta  took  a  step  forward,  then  suddenly 
began  to  back  down  the  street. 

"  I  don't  think  I  can,  Hatty,  thank  you  just 
the  same  —  I  — " 

Tears   welled   in   the   warm  blue   eyes.     The 


Henrietta  Shares  a  Grief          57 

thought  of  Minnie,  dear  friendly  Minnie,  weep- 
ing in  the  bedroom  upstairs,  took  away  all  curi- 
osity. 

"Are  you  going  to  the  funeral?"  Hatty  in- 
quired. 

"Yes;  with  Mother." 

"  We're  not.  Mother  never  called  on  Mrs. 
Haswell;  but  she  sent  her  card  over  this  morning 
with  4  sympathy  '  written  on  it,  and  some  pansies 
out  of  the  garden.  Look  at  that  wreath  going 
in.  Isn't  it  beautiful?  " 

Henrietta  started  home  in  haste.  The  sight 
of  the  flowers  made  her  ill. 

"  Mother!  "  she  cried,  bursting  into  the  shabby 
parlor  with  an  ashen  face.  "  Mother,  turn 
round  here  and  let  me  look  at  you.  Are  you  all 
right?  Have  you  got  a  pain  anywhere?  Do 
you  feel  well?  " 

Mrs.  Kirby  smiled  into  the  anxious  eyes. 

"Why,  yes,  dear.     Why?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  just  got  to  thinking 
about  —  if  it  had  been  you  lying  over  there  so 
white  and  still,  and  I  got  so  scared  that  I  could 
hardly  wait  to  get  over  here  to  you.  Oh,  I 
couldn't  stand  it  if  it  was  —  because  —  you  and 
I  are  all  each  other's  got.  Are  you  sure  you  feel 
well?  As  well  as  usual?  " 

"  Of  course,  Henrietta,  don't  fret  yourself 
about  me." 


58  Only  Henrietta 

"  Is  there  anything  I  could  do  for  you?  " 

Mrs.  Kirby  thought  a  minute. 

"  Why,  yes,  there  is,  if  you  don't  mind.  You 
may  get  those  combings  Mrs.  Bradford  brought 
in  yesterday  and  straighten  them  out  for  her 
swkch." 

Henrietta  looked  as  if  she  wished  she  hadn't 
spoken.  If  there  was  one  thing  in  the  hair 
and  complexion  business  that  she  hated  more 
than  another  it  was  to  get  combings  ready  for 
a  switch.  It  was  tedious,  irritating  work.  She 
hated  the  little  rings  of  hair  and  the  matted 
locks. 

"  Why  do  people  always  wrap  combings  round 
their  fingers?"  she  asked  presently,  drawing  out 
the  long  hairs  and  putting  them  to  one  side  neatly. 
"  It  makes  so  much  extra  work." 

Mrs.  Kirby  didnit  know;  she  supposed  it  was 
an  easy  way  to  dispose  of  them. 

Henrietta  finished  the  work  in  the  course  of  an 
hour  and  put  the  hair  away  with  a  sigh  of  satis- 
faction. 

"  I  believe  it  makes  you  happier  to  get  through 
with  something  you  didn't  want  to  do,  than  to 
finish  something  you  really  like,"  she  said  as  she 
closed  the  top  to  the  show  case,  carefully. 

Mrs.  Kirby  finished  her  morning's  work. 
Henrietta  set  the  dinner  table,  filled  the  tea  kettle 
and  put  it  on  the  stove.  She  watched  the  clock 


Henrietta  Shares  a  Grief  59 

closely.  As  the  hands  got  round  to  one,  she  be- 
gan to  fidget  noticeably. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Henrietta?  "  her  mother 
asked.  "  You  seem  nervous." 

"  Would  you  —  do  you  think  Minnie  would 
mind  if  I  didn't  go  to  the  service?  I  don't  want 
to  a  bit.  I've  never  seen  but  one  person  —  like 
that  —  dead,  you  know.  It  was  Peter  Marianni, 
who  used  to  have  the  fruit  stand  down  on  Tejon 
Street.  I  never  told  you,  but  Minnie  and  I  ran 
away  from  school  one  day  at  recess  —  over  to 
the  church  where  they  had  the  service  for  him." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  about  it,  Henri- 
etta?" ' 

"  I  thought  you'd  scold  —  and  then  I  felt 
ashamed  because  we  went.  Mrs.  Lee  says  it's 
common  to  be  curious.  I  guess  it  must  be,  for  a 
man  asked  us  that  day  if  we  were  friends  of  the 
de  —  departed,  and  when  we  said  we  wasn't,  he 
told  us  to  run  along  home.  But  we  just  went  out 
one  door  and  in  another  —  and  looked.  I  feel 
better  now  I've  told  you.  I  always  do." 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute.  Mrs.  Kirby 
was  looking  straight  into  Henrietta's  eyes. 

"  It  was  pretty  in  the  church  though.  Or,  at 
least,  they  tried  to  make  it  look  nice,"  Henrietta 
went  on.  "  There  were  candles  burning  and  the 
minister  had  on  a  white  dress." 

"  A  surplice,  Henrietta." 


60  Only  Henrietta 

;'  Well,  maybe  —  I  don't  know  what  you  call 
it.  It  was  over  something  black.  We  didn't  stay 
long  enough  to  see  much.  They  were  pretty 
near  through  when  we  got  there.  Do  you  think 
Minnie  will  feel  bad  if  I  don't  go?" 

"  No." 

"  If  you  don't  mind,  I'll  stay  here  then  —  and 
when  they  get  home,  maybe  I'll  go  over." 

She  drew  the  Morris  chair  close  to  the  front 
window  after  her  mother  left.  For  a  while  she 
sat  well  back,  safe  from  the  gaze  of  the  passers- 
by.  But  gradually  her  curiosity  got  the  better  of 
her  judgment  and  by  the  time  the  procession  had 
formed,  her  head  and  shoulders  were  well  out- 
side the  open  window  and  she  was  gazing  with 
widening  eyes  and  bated  breath. 

She  was  more  awed  than  touched  —  until  the 
family  began  to  come  out  to  the  waiting  carriage. 
Minnie  clung  to  the  arm  of  her  father  and  her 
head  drooped;  little  Bennie  held  Aunt  Amelia's 
hand  and  looked  at  the  crowd  wonderingly. 

The  sight  was  too  much  for  Henrietta.  She 
made  one  leap  from  her  chair,  and,  running  into 
the  bedroom,  flung  herself  across  the  bed  to  sob 
out  her  grief  for  her  friends. 

It  was  almost  supper  time  before  she  ventured 
over  to  see  Minnie.  She  went  round  the  house 
and  knocked  timidly.  Aunt  Amelia  opened  the 
door.  Her  face  showed  traces  of  recent  tears. 


Henrietta  Shares  a  Grief  61 

"  Come  in,  Henrietta,"  she  said,  pleasantly. 
"  Minnie  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  We're  just 
going  to  have  a  bite  of  supper.  Suppose  you 
have  some  with  us.  I  believe  Minnie  would  eat 
if  you'd  stay." 

"  Well  —  I'll  go  and  ask  Mother,"  Henrietta 
answered. 

She  was  back  quickly.  "  I'll  stay  if  it'll  make 
Minnie  feel  better,"  she  said. 

The  table  was  set  cozily  in  the  dining-room, 
and  the  family  had  drawn  up  around  it.  Min- 
nie's eyes  brightened  as  they  fell  on  Henrietta, 
and  Mr.  Haswell  drew  a  chair  .up  beside  his  own. 

"  We're  right  glad  to  have  you  to-night,  Hen- 
rietta," he  said. 

"  And  I'm  glad  to  come.  I've  got  the  dollar 
I  owe  Minnie  for  the  donkey.  You  know  — " 
she  laughed  a  low  rippling  laugh  in  spite  of  the 
occasion — "it's  the  funniest  thing!  I  worried 
so  that  day  about  paying  it  back,  and  all  the  time 
I  had  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  of  my  own  at 
home  in  my  bureau  drawer.  It  was  sent  to 
me  —  by  somebody  who  —  who  knew  me  once  — 
a  long  time  ago.  I  didn't  want  to  accept  it  at 
first  —  but  it's  come  in  very  handy.  I  got  it 
changed  this  morning.  Here." 

She  slid  a  silver  dollar  toward  Minnie's  plate 
and  beamed  delightedly. 

"  Minnie  doesn't  want  that  dollar,  Henrietta. 


62  Only  Henrietta 

I'm  afraid  she  misled  you  a  little  about  the 
donkey.  Just  keep  it.  Buy  something  for  your- 
self." 

"Oh,  but  I  owe  it,  Mr.  Haswell!  Mother 
says  it  isn't  honorable  not  to  pay  what  you 
owe." 

She  put  the  dollar  into  Minnie's  resisting  hand. 
Mr.  Haswell  thought  best  not  to  reject  it  the  sec- 
ond time.  Henrietta  had  evidently  been  taught 
that  a  debt  was  a  debt,  and  must  be  discharged 
honorably.  He  would  not  weaken  her  idea  of 
obligation  at  the  cost  of  his  own  generosity. 

It  was  quite  eight  o'clock  when  Henrietta 
started  home.  The  whole  family  had  clung  to 
her,  for  her  happy  chatter,  her  droll  remarks  had 
pierced  the  gloom  of  the  past  few  days  and 
awakened  them  to  new  responsibilities. 

Minnie  stepped  out  on  the  veranda  in  the  sweet 
chill  of  the  summer  dusk  —  Colorado  nights  are 
always  cool  —  to  watch  her  safely  to  her  own 
gate.  A  new  moon  hovered  low  in  the  west,  and 
the  Peak  stood  out  against  a  tranquil  sky. 

"  Make  a  wish,  Min,  quick,  over  your  right 
shoulder.  I'll  make  one  for  you,  too." 

They  stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  the  silver 
crescent.  It  was  Henrietta  who  spoke  first. 

"  I  wished  that  you'd  be  happy  again  soon, 
Min.  Mother  says  it  isn't  right  to  the  living  to 
mourn  too  much  for  those  that  are  gone.  And 


Henrietta  Shares  a  Grief  63 

she  knows,  because  she's  lost  everybody  except 
me.  Everybody!  " 

The  clear  voice  faltered  for  a  second  and  then 
went  on  bravely — "  and  sometimes  we  have  kind 
of  a  hard  time,  but  we  never  give  in,  never!  She 
says  that  everybody  can  look  on  the  bright  side 
if  they  want  to.  It's  just  like  looking  at  the 
mountains  and  seeing  everything  but  the  sharp 
peaks.  There's  always  the  sky  line  and  the 
canons.  Good  night  —  sleep  tight !  " 

She  was  skipping  off  down  the  block  before 
Minnie  could  reply,  but  Minnie  carried  the  con- 
versation on  in  to  the  family,  and  Mr.  Haswell 
smiled  as  he  listened. 

"  She's  right,  Minnie,"  he  said,  "  and  she  has 
a  remarkable  mother.  A  woman  who  can  hold 
on  to  that  kind  philosophy  with  the  deal  life 
has  handed  her  is  a  wonder.  When  you  need 
advice  —  now  that  mother's  gone  —  go  to  Mrs. 
Kirby." 

He  went  upstairs  slowly,  and  sat  by  his  open 
window  for  a  long  time  smoking  and  thinking. 

Henrietta  had  helped  him,  too. 


MRS.    KIRBY   BRINGS   GOOD   NEWS 

ETTA  KIRBY  wearily  climbed  the  long  flight  of 
steps  leading  to  Judge  Lovell's  handsome  resi- 
dence. The  wind,  sweeping  up  the  avenue  in 
fitful  gusts,  tugged  at  her  faded  blue  straw  hat 
so  that  it  took  both  hands  to  keep  it  straight. 
Her  serge  skirt  wrapped  about  her  slender  limbs 
accentuating  their  leanness. 

She  managed  to  reach  the  shelter  of  the  wide 
stone  veranda  and  paused  for  breath.  Then 
she  rang  the  bell  thankfully.  She  had  pulled 
against  the  wind  for  twelve  long  blocks  and  her 
strength  was  almost  spent. 

A  neat  housemaid,  in  black  dress  with  trim 
white  collar  and  cuffs,  opened  the  door  and 
greeted  her  warmly. 

'  Why,  Mrs.  Kirby,  come  right  in.  Mrs. 
Lovell  hardly  thought  you'd  come  this  morning. 
The  September  winds  are  beginning,  aren't  they? 
Just  look  at  this  porch!  Judkins  swept  it  not 
fifteen  minutes  ago  and  you'd  never  think  a  broom 
had  touched  it.  Between  the  cotton  that  falls 
from  the  trees  in  July,  and  the  leaves  that  blow 

64 


'  i  DIDN'T  DREAM  THAT  YOU'D  VENTURE  OUT  IN  THIS 
STORM  ' " 


Mrs.  Kirby  Brings  Good  News       65 

around  in  the  fall,  housekeeping  is  a  fright! 
Won't  you  sit  down  in  the  library?  I'll  get  you 
a  glass  of  water.  You  look  faint." 

"Thank  you,  Hedwig.  Yes;  I  should  like 
the  water.  The  wind  does  tear  down  the  avenue, 
doesn't  it?  Do  you  think  Mrs.  Lovell  wants  me 
this  morning?  " 

"  She  wasn't  expecting  you,  but  I'm  sure  she'll 
be  glad  to  see  you.  Just  a  minute,  and  I'll  ask 
her." 

Mrs.  Kirby  dropped  down  in  a  straight-backed 
chair  and  sat  up  primly.  She  would  have 
thought  it  an  intrusion  to  sit  in  the  comfortable 
upholstered  one  drawn  close  to  the  open  fire, 
though  she  looked  at  it  longingly. 

"  Mrs.  Lovell  will  see  you  right  away,  Mrs. 
Kirby,"  Hedwig  said,  coming  back  with  the  water. 
"  She's  in  her  room.  Will  you  go  up,  or  will 
you  rest  a  minute?  " 

"  I'll  go  right  up,  Hedwig.  I'm  due  at  Mrs. 
Bradford's  at  eleven." 

She  pulled  up  the  wide  stairs  slowly,  holding 
to  the  mahogany  railing  as  if  each  step  were  an 
effort.  Mrs.  Lovell  rose  from  a  chaise-longue, 
when  she  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Kirby,"  she  said  in  a  low,  pleas- 
ant voice,  "  I  didn't  dream  you'd  venture  out  in 
this  storm.  It  must  be  blowing  eighty  miles  an 
hour.  How  did  you  ever  get  up  the  hill?  " 


66  Only  Henrietta 

"  It  was  a  pull,  Mrs.  Lovell.  But  I'll  forget 
all  about  it  in  a  moment  —  in  this  lovely  room. 
How  good  the  fire  feels  this  morning.  Early 
for  it,  too,  isn't  it?" 

"  A  little.  One  never  knows  just  what  to  ex- 
pect in  Colorado.  That's  her  chief  charm. 
She's  variable.  I've  seen  it  snow  merrily  on  the 
Fourth  of  July!  Shall  we  do  my  hair  first  —  or 
nails?" 

"  Suit  yourself,  please.     It  doesn't  matter." 

Mrs.  Lovell  drew  a  chair  up  to  a  long  French 
mirror  and  sat  down  facing  it.  Mrs.  Kirby 
opened  a  small  bag  and  took  out  a  white  apron. 
Then  she  went  into  the  adjoining  bathroom,  re- 
turning with  a  large  turkish  towel  which  she 
carefully  fastened  about  Mrs.  Lovell's  shoulders. 

She  removed  the  shell  pins  that  held  the  thick 
hair,  loosening  it  until  it  fell  in  a  waving  mass 
over  the  back  of  the  chair.  She  parted  it  care- 
fully, passing  her  hands  over  its  shining  surface 
caressingly. 

"  It's  in  perfect  condition,"  she  said  with  pride, 
and  called  attention  to  several  new  tendrils  that 
clung  to  the  nape  of  the  white  neck  and  brow. 

'  That's  because  you  take  such  good  care  of 
it,  Mrs.  Kirby." 

"  I  think  the  tonic  helps.  Don't  you,  Mrs. 
Lovell?" 

"  Very  much.     There's  no  doubt  of  it." 


Mrs.  Kirby  Brings  Good  News      67 

"  And  the  cream  —  you  find  that  good?  " 

"  Excellent." 

"  I'm  so  glad.  It  means  so  much  to  have  my 
customers  satisfied." 

"  I'm  sure  they  all  are,  Mrs.  Kirby." 

"  I  hope  so." 

It  was  the  same  conversation  that  went  on 
weekly. 

Mrs.  Lovell  watched  the  hands  that  massaged 
and  rubbed  knowingly,  in  the  mirror  before  her. 
She  liked  to  watch  Mrs.  Kirby's  face.  It  was 
so  appealing,  so  full  of  human  kindness. 

"How's  Henrietta?"  Mrs.  Lovell  asked 
after  a  moment,  just  to  see  the  eyes  before  her 
brighten. 

"  Oh,  fine,  thank  you!  Henrietta's  started  to 
high  school.  She  is  delighted  with  it.  I  think 
she's  going  to  do  splendidly." 

"High  school!     That  infant?" 

"  Henrietta  will  be  thirteen  in  October." 

"  Yes,  of  course,  but  —  why,  isn't  that  very 
young  to  enter  high  school?  " 

"  No;  it's  the  usual  age,  I  believe." 

"  And  you  think  she's  going  to  get  along 
nicely?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  Perhaps  I  shouldn't  say  it,  being 
her  mother,  but  she  generally  leads  her  class. 
Henrietta  ought  to  be  bright.  She  inherits  in- 
tellect. Her  father — " 


68  Only  Henrietta 

She  stopped  short  and  peered  a  little  deeper 
into  the  scalp  that  suddenly  invited  inspection. 

"  I  thought  I  saw  a  wee  bit  of  dandruff,  Mrs. 
Lovell.  I  have  a  splendid  salve  for  it,  too. 
Not  a  bit  greasy  and  — " 

"  Yes;  we  must  try  it,  Mrs.  Kirby.  You  were 
speaking  of  Henrietta's  father.  Is  he  living? 
I  have  often  wondered." 

"  I  don't  know.     Yes  —  I  think  he  must  be." 

"Oh!" 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute. 

"  I  hope  he  helps  you  with  the  care  of  Hen- 
rietta, Mrs.  Kirby." 

'  Yes  —  he  has  at  times." 

"  It  must  be  rather  hard  for  you,  all  alone." 

"  It  has  been  in  the  past.  But  I'm  doing  bet- 
ter now.  People  are  coming  back  from  the  can- 
ons. All  tanned  up,  too,  fortunately.  I  made 
over  a  hundred  jars  of  cream  this  week.  I  won't 
have  a  bit  of  trouble  selling  it,  I'm  sure." 

"  That's  fine.  But  —  you  were  saying  some- 
thing about  Henrietta's  father." 

Mrs.  Lovell  felt  that  she  was  transcending  the 
bounds  of  good  breeding,  but  she  was  genuinely 
interested.  She  had  grown  very  fond  of  Mrs. 
Kirby  during  the  six  months  she  had  known  her. 

"He  was  educated.     That's  all." 

"A  college  man?  " 

"Yes;  Mrs.  Lovell." 


Mrs.  Kirby  Brings  Good  News      69 

"  And  you  met  him,  I  suppose  —  where  you 
lived?  At  your  home  in  the  East?  " 

"  I  met  him  in  his  aunt's  house.  I  was  sew- 
ing there.  I  don't  like  to  talk  about  it,  Mrs. 
Lovell.  It  was  all  such  a  sad  mistake.  His 
people  resented  his  marrying  me  —  a  poor  seam- 
stress. I  used  to  sew,  until  my  eyes  got  so  weak 
that  I  had  to  give  it  up." 

"  I  see.  You  have  had  a  great  deal  of 
trouble.  I'm  sorry." 

"  I've  had  my  share,  though  it  might  have  been 
worse." 

"  But  after  he  married  you,  it  seems  to  me  he 
should  have  been  man  enough  to  stand  by  you. 
Especially  after  Henrietta  came." 

'  Yes;  but  he  wasn't  altogether  to  blame. 
There  were  so  many  discouragements  —  and  in- 
fluences." 

She  finished  brushing  Mrs.  Lovell' s  hair  and 
coiled  it  on  the  shapely  head.  Then  she  went 
into  the  bathroom  and  came  out  with  a  bowl  of 
hot  water.  The  manicuring  went  quickly,  and 
at  ten  minutes  to  eleven  she  was  ready  to  start 
on  to  the  next  place. 

As  Mrs.  Kirby  drew  on  her  shabby  black  kid 
gloves,  Mrs.  Lovell  watched  her  thin  face  anx- 
iously. 

"  Won't  you  let  Hedwig  give  you  a  cup  of  tea 
before  you  go?"  she  asked  kindly.  "You're 


70  Only  Henrietta 

not  looking  well  this  morning.  You  mustn't  get 
ill." 

"  No ;  I  mustn't.  Thank  you,  but  I  haven't 
time  for  the  tea.  I'm  due  at  Mrs.  Bradford's 
at  eleven." 

Mrs.  Lovell  crossed  the  room  and  rang  a  bell 
near  the  head  of  her  bed.  "  I  insist,"  she  said 
with  a  smile  few  could  resist.  "  Hedwig  will 
bring  it  to  you  in  the  library.  Sit  in  the  big 
chair  before  the  fire  while  you  drink  it,  and  rest. 
Judkins  will  take  you  to  Mrs.  Bradford's." 

'  You  are  so  good,  Mrs.  Lovell.  The  wind 
seems  to  be  going  down  now.  I  can  walk.  I 
don't  like  to  bother." 

"  It's  no  trouble  at  all.  Judkins  goes  for 
Judge  Lovell  in  a  little  while,  anyway.  And, 
Mrs.  Kirby,  please  don't  think  I  meant  to  be 
inquisitive  about  your  affairs.  I  wish  so  much 
that  I  might  help  you  and  Henrietta  in  some 
way.  Especially  Henrietta.  I  might  assist  her 
with  music  —  or  read  with  her.  I  love  children. 
It's  a  great  sorrow  our  not  having  any.  We  like 
to  borrow  other  people's  sometimes." 

For  an  instant  Mrs.  Kirby,  in  her  rusty  blue 
serge  and  three-year  old  hat,  felt  infinitely  richer 
than  the  carefully  groomed  woman  beside  her. 
She  had  what  money  could  not  buy;  mother- 
hood—  the  sweetest  thing  in  life.  Mrs.  Lovell 
with  all  her  wealth  might  well  envy  her. 


Mrs.  Kirby  Brings  Good  News      71 

Her  heart  leaped  at  the  thought  of  what  Mrs. 
Lovell  could  do  for  Henrietta,  and  gratitude 
shone  from  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  that  would  be  splendid!"  she  said. 
"  Henrietta  isn't  very  musical,  but  she  reads 
nicely.  There  are  so  many  things  you  could 
teach  her." 

"  Suppose  you  send  her  over  some  morning. 
It  would  have  to  be  on  Saturday,  wouldn't  it, 
since  she  is  in  school?  How  about  to-morrow 
at  eleven?  " 

Mrs.  Lovell  stood  at  the  window  a  few 
minutes  later  and  watched  Mrs.  Kirby  enter  the 
limousine  drawn  up  to  the  curb.  "  Plucky  little 
thing,"  she  murmured,  and  went  back  to  her  book 
by  the  fire  feeling  useless  and  ornamental. 

Mrs.  Kirby  could  scarcely  wait  until  supper 
time  to  tell  Henrietta  the  news.  That  was  the 
time  they  kept  for  visiting,  for  the  day's  cares 
were  pretty  well  through  and  they  could  linger 
over  the  teacups. 

"  A  wonderful  thing  happened  to-day,  Henri- 
etta," she  began,  smiling  brightly.  "  Two  won- 
derful things:  Mrs.  Lovell  sent  me  over  to  Mrs. 
Bradford's  in  her  new  limousine.  It's  a  regular 
palace  on  wheels,  and  so  cozy.  The  lining  is  all 
pale  gray." 

"  Yes,  it  must  be  lovely.  What  was  the 
other?"  Henrietta  asked  impatiently. 


72  Only  Henrietta 

"The  other?  Oh,  yes.  That  was  the  big 
thing.  I  hope  you  are  going  to  appreciate  it, 
Henrietta.  It's  so  much  for  a  woman  like  Mrs. 
Lovell  to  do,  and  such  an  opportunity." 

She  paused,  leaving  Henrietta  in  puzzled  sus- 
pense. 

"  But  what  is  it,  Mother?  Why  don't  you  tell 
me?" 

"  Mrs.  Lovell  is  going  to  take  you  for  an  hour 
or  so  every  week,  Henrietta;  help  you  with 
your  lessons,  or  whatever  she  finds  you  are  most 
interested  in.  She  suggested  music,  but  I  told 
her  you  weren't  talented.  Then  she  suggested 
reading." 

"Oh,  Mother!" 

The  tone  was  so  joyous  that  Mrs.  Kirby 
reached  over  and  patted  the  small  hands  clasped 
together  ecstatically. 

1  You  are  to  go  to-morrow  at  eleven,  dear.  I 
must  get  up  early  and  wash  out  your  new  middy 
and  press  your  skirt." 

"  I'll  do  it,  Mother.     You  have  enough." 

"  I  want  you  to  look  nice,  Henrietta." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  must.  I'll  do  my  hair  up  on  curl- 
ers to-night  and  rut>  on  some  cream.  The  girls 
all  sa-y  my  skin  is  a  good  advertisement  for  you, 
Mother.  It's  so  soft  and  white." 

"  You  inherit  that,  Henrietta." 

"Who  from?" 


Mrs.  Kirby  Brings  Good  News      73 

'Your  father.  He  had  wonderful  flesh;  soft 
and  white  as  a  baby's.  Blue  eyes  too,  like 
yours." 

"Mother?" 

"Yes,  "dear." 

'  You  said  when  I  was  twelve  you'd  tell  me 
about  —  him.  I'm  nearly  thirteen  now.  I've 
been  goin'  to  ask  you  lots  of  times,  but  I  didn't 
like  to  stir  you  all  up,  and  then  I  hate  him  so  — " 

"  Henrietta,  it's  wicked  to  hate,  and  stupid. 
You  spoil  your  disposition  that  way.  Haven't  I 
always  told  you  that  ugly  thoughts  hurt  you  more 
than  the  one  you  cast  them  on?  They  spoil  the 
good  ones,  and  show  in  your  face." 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Remember  that,  Henrietta.  Ugly  thoughts 
show  in  your  face,  and  the  whole  world  reads." 

"  I  know." 

"  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  say  such  things  when 
you  have  so  much  to  be  thankful  for.  People 
are  so  kind  to  us." 

"  I  know.  I  won't  again,  Mother.  But  will 
you  tell  me  now?  Can't  you?  " 

"  I  don't  know  but  this  is  just  as  good  a  time 
as  any,  dear.  What  do  you  want  me  to  tell 
you?" 

"  Everything.  Begin  when  you  were  little, 
Mother.  You  always  said  you  would." 

"  There'll  be  things  you  mustn't  repeat,  Hen- 


74  Only  Henrietta 

rietta.  The  less  you  say,  the  less  you  have  to 
worry  about." 

"  I  know  that.  I  never  tell  the  girls  anything; 
even  when  they  pump  and  pump." 

Mrs.  Kirby  slipped  her  red  fringed  napkin  into 
its  ring  and  put  her  teacup  and  saucer  on  her 
plate.  She  was  wondering  how  she  should  begin. 
It  was  a  long  story,  and  far  too  sad  for  a  child's 
ears. 

"  In  the  first  place,  Henrietta,  I  never  had  a 
real  home.  Maybe  that's  why  I've  set  such  store 
by  this  one,  plain  as  it  is.  Furniture  doesn't 
make  a  home,  Henrietta;  love  does.  I  was 
about  seven  years  old,  I  think,  when  I  left  the 
place  where  I'd  been  put  and  went  to  old  Doctor 
Burke's." 

"  What  kind  of  a  place,  Mother?  " 

"  A  home  for  children." 

"  An  orphan  asylum?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Who  was  Doctor  Burke?" 

"  He  was  a  kind  old  man  who  used  to  come 
to  the  home  when  any  of  us  were  sick.  I  had 
the  scarlet  fever  and  he  took  care  of  me.  He 
liked  me  because  I  had  Irish  eyes,  he  said,  and 
after  I  got  well  he  came  one  day  in  his  old 
phaeton  and  took  me  home.  He  was  a  lonely 
old  man.  His  wife  was  dead." 

"  Who  took  care  of  you?  " 


Mrs.  Kirby  Brings  Good  News      75 

"  He  had  a  housekeeper  —  a  cross  old  woman 
who  thought  I  was  a  dreadful  nuisance;  but  the 
doctor's  kindness  made  up  for  all  that." 
'Where  were  your  own  parents?" 

"  Dead,  dear." 

"  Didn't  you  ever  see  them?  " 

"  Not  to  remember." 

"  Oh,  Mother,  how  dreadful !  /  should  have 
died  if  I  hadn't  had  you." 

"  I  lived  with  Doctor  Burke  until  I  was  sixteen. 
Then  he  died.  I  was  all  alone  in  the  world. 
His  home  went  to  some  distant  relatives." 

"What  did  you  do?"  Henrietta  shuddered, 
and  the  goose  flesh  began  to  show  on  her  arms. 

"  I  don't  like  to  tell  you  this.  It  isn't  pleas- 
ant." 

"  But  I  want  to  know." 

"  Old  Mrs.  Malone  had  taught  me  to  sew, 
and  I  had  picked  up  a  lot  of  things  from  the  doc- 
tor. He  taught  me  to  make  face  creams  and 
hair  tonics.  He  was  always  mixing  and  brew- 
ing things.  People  called  him  a  quack,  but  I 
wish  some  of  the  doctors  nowadays  knew  as 
much." 

"  The  creams  you  make  now?  " 

"Yes." 

"But  what  did  you  do?  Where  did  you 
go?" 

"  I  began  sewing  round  the  neighborhood." 


76  Only  Henrietta 

"In  Vermont?" 

"Yes." 

"Where?" 

"  Never  mind  that,  Henrietta.  I'd  just  as 
soon  you  didn't  know." 

"Why?" 

"  I  want  to  forget  about  it  if  I  can.  All  the 
real  sorrow  I  ever  had  was  there." 

"Oh!" 

"  I  found  some  places  to  sew.  One  was  in  a 
family  where  there  was  a  young  man." 

"My  father?" 

"  Yes.  He  lived  with  his  aunt.  His  mother 
and  father  were  dead.  He  was  the  very  apple 
of  this  old  lady's  eye.  She  had  reared  him. 
She  was  very  indulgent  with  him,  but  hard  and 
selfish  with  others." 

"  Was  she  an  old  maid?  " 

Mrs.  Kirby  could  not  resist  smiling.  Henri- 
etta's face  was  so  tragic. 

"  She  was  a  spinster,  which  is  worse.  There's 
a  difference." 

"  And  didn't  she  like  it  because  my  father 
liked  you?  I  should  have  thought  she'd  have 
known  he  couldn't  help  it.  Anybody  would  fall 
in  love  with  you.  All  your  customers  do." 

Etta  Kirby  looked  into  the  child's  affectionate 
eyes  thoughtfully. 

"  I  was  only  eighteen,  Henrietta.     I  hope  you 


Mrs.  Kirby  Brings  Good  News      77 

won't  marry  the-  first  man  you  fall  in  love  with. 
It  sjeldom  pays." 

"  But  tell  me  about  him"  Henrietta  never 
could  say  father.  "  Was  he  handsome  and 
smart,  and  did  he  love  you  a  lot,  like  Sir  Nicholas 
Ashworth  did  the  Lady  Gwendolyn  in  '  A  Mad 
Infatuation'?  " 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  read  those  silly  books, 
dear.  I  am  so  glad  that  Mrs.  Lovell  will  super- 
vise  your  reading." 

"  I  guess  somebody  needs  to.  I  gave  a  report 
on  the  '  Secret  Encounter  '  in  English  to-day  and 
Miss  Ellwell  said  it  made  her  hair  stand  up. 
She  hadn't  much  to  stand,  so  I  guess  it  didn't 
hurt  her  any.  You  say  he  had  blue  eyes?  Was 
he  tall  or  short?  I  hope  he  wasn't  fat.  I  can't 
stand  fat  mm.  Any  except  Mr.  Haswell.  I'd 
like  him  if  he  was  a  African." 

"  Yes;  he  was  tall  and  fine  looking,  Henrietta. 
He  was  just  starting  to  college  —  in  his  Fresh- 
man year.  He  was  only  twenty,  himself.  It 
was  not  fair;  neither  to  himself  nor  to  his  aunt. 
I  can't  blame  her  for  being  very  angry.  She 
had  high  hopes  for  him." 

"  Did  you  — "  Henrietta  almost  whispered  the 
words,  "  did  you  run  away?  " 

Mrs.  Kirby  evaded  the  question. 

"  We  were  married  very  quietly,  and  when  we 
came  home  his  aunt,  Miss  — " 


78  Only  Henrietta 

She  stopped,  confused. 

"His  aunt  didn't  like  it?" 

"  She  was  terribly  angry.  She  ordered  him 
out  of  the  house  and  told  him  never  to  enter  it 
again." 

"She  did!  Oh,  how  mean  of  her.  But  that's 
the  way  it  always  happens.  Lady  Gwendolyn's 
mother  did  the  same  thing  exactly.  What  did 
you  do?  " 

"  We  found  a  little  house  and  settled  down. 
But  your  father  hadn't  been  trained  to  work. 
He  didn't  know  how.  I  tried  to  get  sewing,  but 
all  her  friends  —  the  aunt's  —  resented  my  mar- 
riage, and  things  got  very  bad.  And  then  — 
your  father  got  discouraged.  It  humiliated  him 
to  have  me  making  the  living,  and  I  couldn't 
very  well  after  you  came,  so  one  day  he  just 
went  away  —  I  never  knew  where." 

Henrietta's  lips  straightened  and  her  eyes 
flashed. 

"  Couldn't  he  clerk  —  or  anything?  " 

"Yes;  he  tried,  but  he  grew  impatient.  It  is 
very  hard  to  come  down  to  plain  living  and  real 
labor  when  you've  had  an  easy  time  and  every- 
thing in  the  world  to  make  life  pleasant." 

"Not  if  you've  got  the  right  stuff  in  you!" 
Henrietta's  fist  came  down  on  the  red  tablecloth 
with  a  bang.  "  I'm  sure  I  shouldn't  like  him. 
I  won't  hate  him  if  you  don't  want  me  to,  but  I 


Mrs.  Kirby  Brings  Good  News      79 

can't  help  thinking  horrid  things  about  him.  I 
don't  care  if  they  do  show  in  my  face.  Well, 
what  happened?  You  don't  mind  my  saying  so, 
but  it's  almost  as  good  as  a  novel  if  it  didn't 
make  you  so  mad  inside  and.  —  squiggly." 

"  I  came  home  one  night  from  work.  You 
were  a  little  thing,  only  three  years  old.  He  was 
gone.  There  was  a  note  — " 

For  a  moment  the  voice  struggled  bravely, 
broke.  Etta  Kirby  put  her  arms  on  the  table 
and  buried  her  face  in  them.  Hard  dry  sobs 
shook  her.  It  was  the  first  time  in  all  her  life 
that  Henrietta  had  seen  her  mother  cry,  or  give 
way  to  grief,  and  the  sight  terrified  her.  Her 
arms  were  round  her  in  an  instant. 

"  Oh,  Mother,  please,  please  don't!  I 
wouldn't  have  asked  you  for  the  world  if  I'd 
known  it  would  make  you  feel  like  this.  I  don't 
care  a  bit  about  hearing  any  more.  I  know 
enough  about  him  anyway.  He  was  a  coward  — 
a  coward,  I  tell  you.  I  don't  care  if  he  was  my 
own  father.  I  hate  him,  hate  him,  and  you  can't 
stop  me.  I  don't  care  if  it  makes  me  as  ugly  as 
sin!" 

Henrietta's  passion  brought  Mrs.  Kirby's 
head  up  in  an  instant. 

"Stop!"  she  commanded.  "Stop!  You  are 
talking  about  your  own  flesh  and  blood.  You 


80  Only  Henrietta 

don't  understand,  Henrietta.  You  can't.  You 
are  too  young." 

Henrietta  went  back  to  her  place  at  the  table 
and  began  clearing  the  dishes.  When  she  had 
carried  them  to  the  sink  she  turned  and  looked 
at  her  mother  wonderingly. 

"  I'd  like  to  ask  you  one  more  thing,"  she  said 
slowly.  "  How  did  we  ever  get  way  out  here  — 
to  Colorado?" 

"  I  wanted  to  get  away  from  the  East,  Hen- 
rietta, as  far  as  I  could  from  the  scene  of  all  my 
trouble.  I  saw  an  advertisement  in  a  paper.  A 
woman  wanted  some  one  to  take  her  to  Good 
Springs  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  She  was  very 
ill.  I  applied,  and  got  the  position  as  compan- 
ion. We  stayed  with  her  for  nearly  a  year;  until 
she  died.  Then  I  took  up  sewing  again,  but  my 
eyes  weren't  strong  and  I  tried  making  Doctor 
Burke's  creams  and  hair  tonics.  Now  you  know 
everything." 

"Yes;  and  I'm  glad,  awful  glad." 

She  crossed  the  room  and  put  her  arms  about 
the  shoulders  that  were  beginning  to  stoop  a  little. 

"  I  think  I  must  be  like  you,  Mother,"  she 
said.  "  I  hope  I  am.  Anyway,  I'll  try  to  be  a 
comfort.  When  I  grow  up  I'll  take  care  of  you. 
And  I  won't  lay  down  on  the  job,  either." 

Her  eyes  grew  black  and  the  lids  narrowed. 
Mrs.  Kirby  was  silent.  She  knew  when  those 


Mrs.  Kirby  Brings  Good  News      81 

black  brows  arched  in  a  frown  trouble  was  im- 
minent. Henrietta's  frowns  were  a  good  deal 
like  the  clouds  that  gathered  on  the  old  Peak. 
They  signaled  danger. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A   PROMISING   FRIEND 

HENRIETTA  was  up  with  the  dawn  next  morn- 
ing washing  out  her  middy  blouse,  pressing  her 
skirt  and  broad  black  tie. 

"  To  think  that  I  am  really  going  to  see  the 
inside  of  Mrs.  Lovell's  house,"  she  said  to  her 
mother  who  was  busy  preparing  breakfast. 

"  I  thought  you  had  seen  it,  Henrietta.  You 
are  always  talking  about  her  pictures." 

"  I've  never  been  any  further  than  the  recep- 
tion hall.  Once  I  tiptoed  inside  the  parlor  just 
a  little  way.  I  didn't  stay.  I  was  afraid  Mrs. 
Lovell  might  come  downstairs  any  minute.  It 
must  be  terrible  grand  from  what  I  saw." 

"  It  is  very  beautiful,  Henrietta,  and  I  hope 
you  will  be  on  your  best  behavior.  Don't  touch 
anything  or  ask  too  many  questions.  Just  at- 
tend to  business.  Learn  all  you  can  while  you 
have  the  opportunity." 

A  few  hours  later  Mrs.  Lovell  smiled  across 
the  breakfast  table  at  her  husband. 

"  I'm  going  to  have  a  new  experience  this 
morning,  Hiram,"  she  said,  daintily  dipping  her 

82 


A  Promising  Friend  83 

fingers  into  a  bowl  shot  with  iridescent  lights. 
"  I'm  going  to  have  a  pupil." 

"A  pupil!     In  what?" 

"  I  don't  know  exactly.  What  do  you  think 
I  could  teach  a  girl  of  thirteen?  " 

Judge  Lovell  put  down  his  paper  and  smiled 
whimsically. 

"  Useful  or  veneer?  " 

"  Useful,  of  course.  She's  the  daughter  of 
the  woman  who  takes  care  of  my  hair.  When 
Mrs.  Kirby  was  here  yesterday  she  was  telling 
me  about  the  child.  She  must  be  interesting  and 
original." 

"What  had  you  thought  of  teaching  her? 
Music?" 

"No;  she's  not  musical." 

"French?" 

"  Possibly;  though  I  suppose  she  gets  that  in 
school." 

"  You  might  bolster  up  her  English.  No 
doubt  it  is  lame." 

"  I  thought  of  that,  too.  My  old  experience 
ought  to  help;  though  I'm  frightfully  rusty." 

"  It  will  come  back." 

Mrs.  Lovell  sat  down  before  the  comfortable 
fire  in  her  sitting-room  and  pondered  after  her 
husband  left  the  house.  She  wondered  if  she 
had  been  a  little  rash.  Perhaps  she  had  been. 
She  knew  so  little  about  children.  At  any  rate, 


84  Only  Henrietta 

she  had  appeased  her  conscience.  The  sight  of 
Etta  Kirby  pulling  against  the  wind  the  day  be- 
fore had  made  her  feel  like  a  useless,  pampered 
nonentity. 

She  rose  presently,  and  ran  up  the  stairs  lead- 
ing to  the  attic  with  lighter  feet  than  she  had 
known  in  years.  Somehow,  the  thought  of  a 
child  in  the  house  made  her  feel  young  again. 

The  place  was  musty,  and  filled  with  an  odd 
assortment  of  luggage,  decidedly  cobwebby;  but 
she  began  to  rummage  among  the  trunks  and 
boxes  without  the  help  of  Judkins  or  Hedwig. 

She  came  upon  what  she  wanted  after  a  while, 
and  peeped  under  a  layer  of  old  newspapers 
triumphantly.  Yes,  there  they  were  —  the  old 
text  books  she  had  used  sixteen  years  before  when 
she  had  been  an  instructor  in  Miss  Fielding's 
fashionable  school  for  girls  on  the  Hudson. 
How  far  away  those  days  seemed  in  the  light  of 
new  experiences!  She  had  known  something  of 
the  pinch  of  poverty,  too.  Life  had  not  always 
been  the  rosy  dream  it  was  now.  Hiram  Lovell 
had  changed  all  that  when  he  came  to  visit  his 
sister  at  Fielding's  and  she  had  acted  as  chap- 
eron. Such  a  young,  inexperienced  chaperon ! 

She  found  an  old  ulster  on  a  peg  and  flinging 
it  over  a  dust  covered  chair  took  out  the  books 
eagerly. 

There  was  the  old,  dog  eared  Welsh.      That 


A  Promising  Friend  85 

went  back  to  college  days.  No  self-respecting 
teacher  would  own  such  a  book;  broken  backed 
and  filled  with  pencil  marks  and  sketches. 
There  was  Rolf's  Shakespeare,  too,  and  Tenny- 
son —  other  relics  of  girlhood.  And  between 
calculus  and  Larousse's  dictionary  lay  a  volume 
of  Shelley.  She  laughed  as  she  picked  it  up  and 
turned  the  pages  hurriedly.  Yes,  there  it  was,  a 
ghost  from  the  past  — "  Prometheus  Unbound." 
Oh,  the  days  she  had  struggled  with  its  mysteries  1 

She  took  up  the  books,  one  by  one;  James's 
Psychology;  Olmney's  Trigonometry  with  its 
twin,  the  Loomis  Table  of  Logarithms;  White's 
First  Greek  Reader;  the  Quakenbos  Rhetoric. 
Surely  among  them  all  she  must  have  gleaned 
enough  to  teach  a  child  —  a  little  thirteen-year- 
old  girl ! 

She  sat  with  the  books  in  her  lap  for  a  long 
time,  going  over  many  pages  carefully.  It  was 
good  to  see  them  again.  What  memories  they 
awakened!  How  many  faces  they  brought  be- 
fore her;  friends  she  had  not  thought  of  in  years. 
She  had  intended  to  help  Henrietta  Kirby  and 
the  child  was  helping  her;  giving  back  youth. 

She  put  the  books  back  into  the  box  reluctantly, 
keeping  out  a  few.  There  would  be  bits  of 
Tennyson,  of  Shelley,  even  Browning  that  a  girl 
would  love.  She  liked  the  thought  of  sharing 
her  favorites  with  a  young  mind.  There  would 


86  Only  Henrietta 

be  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  bringing  the  Mas- 
ters to  a  girl  unspoiled  by  indiscriminate  read- 
ing—  for,  of  course,  Henrietta  had  had  little 
training. 

She  was  putting  the  newspapers  back  over  the 
books  when  a  rap  at  the  door  startled  her.  Hed- 
wig  appeared. 

"  Mrs.  Kirby's  little  girl  is  downstairs,  Mrs. 
Lovell.  She  has  waited  quite  awhile.  Do  you 
wish  to  see  her?  " 

"Why,  yes,  Hedwig.     What  time  is  it?" 

"  Nearly  half  past  eleven.  I  had  quite  a  time 
finding  you." 

Mrs.  Lovell  picked  up  her  treasures  hastily. 
Where  had  the  time  gone?  Was  it  possible  that 
she  had  put  in  nearly  two  hours  dreaming  over 
those(old  pages? 

When  she  entered  the  drawing-room  a  little 
girl  rose  from  one  of  the  rugs  which  she  had  been 
examining  carefully. 

"  I'm  Henrietta  Kirby,"  she  said  with  a  frank 
smile. 

Mrs.  Lovell  took  one  of  Henrietta's  slender 
hands  in  her  own  for  a  moment;  then  she  led  her 
to  a  wide  davenport.  She  apologized  for  hav- 
ing kept  her  waiting. 

"  I  didn't  mind  at  all,"  Henrietta  said,  sinking 
down  amid  soft  velvet  cushions  comfortably. 
"  I  wanted  to  see  the  pictures." 


A  Promising  Friend  87 

The  compliment  was  a  doubtful  one,  but  Mrs. 
Lovell  smiled  indulgently. 

'  You  like  pictures?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  like  these.  They're  so  beautiful.  Ours 
are  such  old-fashioned  ones.  Mother  likes  to 
keep  them  because  she's  had  them  such  a  long 
time." 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute.  Mrs.  Lovell 
was  wondering  how  she  should  approach  the 
subject  of  lessons.  Henrietta's  gaze  wandered 
about  the  room  delightedly. 

"  My,  but  this  is  a  lovely  place,"  she  remarked, 
and  then  remembering  that  her-  mother  had  cau- 
tioned her  about  staring,  dropped  her  eyes  be- 
neath curling  lashes. 

"  I'm  glad  that  you  like  it,  Henrietta.  We 
are  very  fond  of  this  room.  We  have  such  a 
fine  view  of  the  Peak.  I  suppose  you  go  to 
school?" 

It  was  a  foolish  remark,  banal  and  absurd. 
Of  course  Henrietta  went  to  school.  Hadn't  her 
mother  spoken  of  her  advancement?  .  .  . 

"  Oh,  yes,  I'm  just  entering  the  high  school." 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am;  very  much." 

"  And  I  suppose  you  go  to  Sunday  school?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  I'm  trying  the  'Piscopal  now. 
Mother  doesn't  belong  to  any  church,  so  she  lets 


88  Only  Henrietta 

me  go  round  to  all  of  them  to  see  which  I  like 
the  best." 

"  And  which  do  you  like  the  best,  Henri- 
etta?" 

Henrietta  hesitated  for  a  brief  second. 

"  I'm  not  real  crazy  about  any  of  them,"  she 
said  honestly.  "  You  see,  I  never  cared  very 
much  about  fairy  stories  —  not  even  when  I  was 
a  little  girl.  Like  about  Jonah,  and  Lot's  wife 
and  Daniel  in  the  Lions'  Den,  and  — " 

She  glanced  up  in  Mrs.  Lovell's  face,  fearing 
that  she  might  be  talking  too  much.  Her  mother 
had  cautioned  her  about  that,  too. 

"Yes;  —  Daniel  and  what — "  Mrs.  Lovell 
encouraged. 

"  The  Hebrews  passing  through  the  fire,  and 
the  loaves  and  fishes,  and  — " 

"  But  those  were  miracles,  Henrietta !  " 

"Yes — I  know.  The  Dean  explained  about 
them  to  us  last  Sunday.  He  said  that  there  were 
true  stones  and  truth  stories.  Did  you  know 
there  was  a  difference,  Mrs.  Lovell?" 

"  Why  no,  I  don't  believe  I  ever  thought  about 
it  —  not  in  just  that  way." 

"  Well,"  he  said  —  one  of  Henrietta's  straight 
brown  fingers  punctuated  the  remark— "that 
true  stories  were  built  on  facts,  and  that  truth 
stories  illustrated  a  truth." 

"  Splendid!     And  did  you  understand  what  he 


A  Promising  Friend  89 

meant? "  Mrs.  Lovell  was  watching  the  ani- 
mated face  beside  her  with  interest. 

"No'm;  but  it's  a  beautiful  definition.  My 
teacher,  Miss  Thompson,  said  so.  I'm  sure  I 
got  it  right,  for  I  went  home  and  copied  it  in  my 
diary  and  then  committed  it.  The  Dean  would 
be  glad  to  come  over  and  explain  it  to  you.  He 
said  he  would  — " 

"  Yes,  I  know  Dean  Aurendel,  Henrietta.  I 
am  a  member  of  his  church." 

"St.  Stephen's?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  expected  you  would  be.  It's  very  stylish. 
Lucy  Gates'  mother  goes  there,  too.  But  I 
think  she  joined  the  Guild  to  get  into  society. 
Lucy  says  it  is  a  good  way.  You  just  go  regu- 
larly and  offer  to  take  home  work,  and  make 
parish  calls  — " 

Henrietta  stopped,  confused.  A  crimson 
flood  dyed  her  cheeks. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  be  gossiping,"  she  said  in 
apology.  "  Mother  wouldn't  like  my  saying 
that."  She  relapsed  into  silence. 

Mrs.  Lovell  changed  the  subject.  "  Do  you 
like  to  read?  "  she  asked  after  a  moment. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Minnie  Haswell  —  that's  my 
chum  —  and  I,  get  books  from  the  library  all 
the  time." 

"  Tell  me  some  of  the  things  you  have  read." 


SO  Only  Henrietta 

Henrietta's  face  was  aglow  as  she  began  the 
list. 

41  Well,  there's  'A  Mad  Infatuation  '—  I've 
just  finished  that.  I  didn't  care  for  it  much. 
Lady  Gwendolyn  marries  the  wrong  man  and 
has  to  suffer  for  her  mistake  all  her  life." 
She  paused,  deep  in  reflection. 
"  And  '  Treasure  Island  '  and  '  The  Lily  Maid 
of  Astolot.'  I  loved  that,  even  if  it  was  sad. 
It  was  so  beautiful  where  they  took  her  down 
the  river  so  that  Sir  Lancelot  could  get  the  letter 
out  of  her  dead  hand.  Miss  Forsythe  read  it 
to  us  last  year  in  school  and  I  had  to  get  up  and 
go  out.  I  was  afraid  I'd  sob  out  loud.  It  was 
the  same  with  '  Enoch  Arden.'  I  could  hardly 
stand  it  when  Enoch  came  home  and  looked  in 
the  window  on  Annie." 

She  stopped  again  and  glanced  in  Mrs.  Lov- 
ell's  face  shyly.  She  was  talking  a  great  deal  — 
too  much,  she  feared,  but  Mrs.  Lovell  seemed 
interested. 

"Are  you  fdid  of  poetry,  Henrietta?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  very.  I  think  maybe  I'll  take  Dra- 
matic Art,  specif  next  year." 

"Dramatic  Art?"  Mrs.  Lovell  looked  puz- 
zled. 

"  Maybe  you  have  heard  it  called  Elocution, 
but  Miss  Forsythe  hates  that  word.  She  says 
it  has  been  so  abused." 


A  Promising  Friend  91 

"  She  is  quite  right.  Have  you  had  lessons 
in  —  Dramatic  Art?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am,  not  special  —  just  general  — 
with  a  class.  Miss  Forsythe  drilled  me  on  a 
piece  for  the  last  day  of  school.  It  was  by  Mrs. 
Browning:  Mother  and  Poet." 

"  Do  you  remember  it?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Could  you  say  it  for  me?  " 

"  Perhaps,  if  you'd  really  like  to  have  me. 
It  is  very  sad.  Miss  Forsythe  always  gives 
sad  pieces.  She  says  you  have  to  cultivate  a 
good  voice  through  the  emotions.  Hers  is 
wonderful.  Just  like  velvet  —  and  drippy  with 
tears." 

Henrietta  slipped  from  the  depths  of  the  lux- 
urious davenport  and  took  her  position  a  little 
away  from  Mrs.  Lovell.  One  narrow  foot  ad- 
vanced beyond  its  fellow,  and  the  shoulders 
lifted. 

Mrs.  Lovell  was  amazed  at  the  intelligent, 
sympathetic  interpretation  that  followed.  The 
voice  was  sweet,  well  modulated  and  musical. 

"  You  have  been  well  trained,"  she  said,  when 
Henrietta  had  finished,  "  and  you  have  tempera- 
ment. You  read  very  well,  indeed." 

Henrietta's  blue  eyes  smiled. 

"Thank  you;  Miss  Forsythe  thinks  I  do  quite 
well,"  she  said  modestly.  "  When  I'm  a  senior 


92  Only  Henrietta 

I'm  going  to  try  for  the  high  school  medal. 
There's  one  given  every  year." 

The  entrance  of  Judge  Lovell  at  that  moment 
put  an  end  to  the  conversation.  Mrs.  Lovell 
presented  her  young  guest. 

'  Well,"  the  Judge  said  with  a  smile  that  Hen- 
rietta thought  very  friendly,  "  I  suppose  you  have 
arranged  a  course  of  study.  What  is  it  to  be: 
music,  art  or  literature?  " 

'  We  are  not  that  far  yet.  Henrietta  has  been 
instructing  me.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  stay  and 
have  lunch  with  us?"  Mrs.  Lovell  asked,  turn- 
ing to  Henrietta.  "  Your  mother  would  not  ob- 
ject, would  she?  " 

14 1  don't  believe  she  would,  thank  you,"  Hen- 
rietta answered,  delighted  at  the  prospect. 
"  She  'most  never  comes  home  to  lunch.  She 
doesn't  have  time  to  eat  any." 

Mrs.  Lovell  hoped  that  Henrietta  would  en- 
tertain the  Judge  with  some  of  her  amusing  re- 
marks at  luncheon,  but  she  relapsed  into  a  pain- 
ful silence,  awed  by  the  grandeur  on  every  side. 

Nothing  escaped  her  keen  eyes,  however,  from 
the  ruffled  cap  and  apron  of  the  maid  who  served 
the  meal  so  quietly,  to  the  quaint  furniture  that 
had  passed  from  one  generation  to  another  of  the 
Lovell  family. 

The  lunch  seemed  to  revive  Henrietta's  spir- 
its —  she  adored  the  chicken  patties  and  the  gela- 


A  Promising  Friend  93 

tin  pudding  —  and  the  door  had  scarcely  closed 
on  the  Judge's  retreating  form  when  she  began 
her  questions. 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  something  about 
your  pictures?"  she  asked  politely.  "Some- 
times we  have  to  report  on  things  at  school  and 
it  would  be  lovely  to  say  I  had  seen  some  real 
grand  ones." 

So,  together,  she  and  Mrs.  Lovell  made  a  tour 
of  the  rooms,  and  Henrietta  had  her  introduc- 
tion to  art.  The  names  of  the  painters  made 
little  impression  on  her,  but  she  was  quick  with 
her  criticisms. 

"  Oh,  I  like  this !  "  she  would  exclaim,  "  and 
this  —  but  isn't  it  queer,  you  can't  tell  whether 
it's  summer  or  autumn !  Everything  is  green, 
but  it  feels  cold.  It  almost  makes  you  shivery! 
And,  isn't  she  beautiful!  She's  graceful  holding 
up  that  urn,  but  it  does  seem  as  if  her  arms  were 
too  long.  Maybe  she's  a  giantess  or  something." 
And,  "  Isn't  that  snow  grand  with  the  sparkles  on 
it?  The  house  looks  just  like  'Crow's  Nest' 
where  I  took  some  cream  for  mother  once.  The 
sun  was  just  going  down.  I  don't  know  but  it 
had  gone  down,  and  the  sparkles  were  still  in  the 
snow  on  the  roof  —  all  rosy  and  gold.  I  almost 
forgot  to  take  the  cream  in  to  Mrs.  Bradford,  I 
got  so  interested  watching  it.  Isn't  it  funny:  my 
friend,  Minnie  Haswell,  doesn't  care  a  thing 


94  Only  Henrietta 

about  nature,  and  her  father  is  just  crazy  over  it. 
He  told  me  about  a  sunrise  once  on  Pike's  Peak, 
and  whenever  I  get  blue  I  shut  my  eyes  tight  and 
picture  it." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  get  blue  often,  Henrietta?  " 

Henrietta  looked  as  if  she  were  about  to  speak, 
but  her  lips  closed  a  little  tighter,  if  anything. 
"  No'm,  I  don't,"  she  answered.  She  was  go- 
ing to  say  something  about  hating  the  hair  busi- 
ness, but  innate  breeding  and  good  taste  forbade 
it. 

"  We  haven't  thought  about  what  we  are  go- 
ing to  do  on  Saturday  mornings,"  Mrs.  Lovell 
said,  when  they  had  finished  with  the  pictures. 
"  Come  over  here  for  a  minute  and  sit  down, 
Henrietta.  I  have  a  little  plan." 

She  paused  by  a  beautiful  table  and  took  a 
note  book  from  a  drawer. 

"  I  am  going  to  write  down  a  number  of  words 
in  this,  Henrietta,  and  you  may  take  them  home 
and  study  them.  We  all  make  mistakes  in  the 
use  of  words,  as  well  as  in  pronunciation,  and 
sometimes  we  get  into  slovenly  habits  of  speech. 
We  should  feel  about  our  speech  as  we  do  about 
our  homes.  It  should  be  polished  and  kept  in 
order.  We  must  not  say  'em  for  them,  nor  was 
for  were." 

"Yes'm,"  Henrietta  affirmed. 

"  And  yes' in,  is  not  a  good  word  to  use,  either, 


A  Promising  Friend  95 

Henrietta.  Say  c  yes '  as  politely  as  you  can,  or 
'yes,  Mrs.  LovelT." 

"  Yes  —  Mrs.  Lovell.  But  just  plain  yes 
doesn't  sound  polite  to  people  as  old  as  you. 
Not  that  you're  so  very  old  —  not  any  older 
than  mother,  I  guess." 

"  It  is  not  considered  good  form  to  discuss 
ages.  You  need  not  be  afraid  to  say  yes,  if  you 
say  it  in  a  nice  tone." 

"  I'll  remember." 

"  Words,  Henrietta,  demand  respect  and  con- 
sideration. I  want  you  to  get  in  the  habit  of 
thinking  of  them  as  friends.  Don't  slight  them. 
Don't  make  one  word  do  for  another.  You 
wouldn't  call  Minnie,  Lucy,  and  expect  to  have 
people  understand  whom  you  were  speaking  of, 
would  you?  " 

"  No  —  of  course  not,  Mrs.  Lovell." 

Henrietta  went  home  a  half  hour  later  with  the 
little  book  held  tightly  in  her  hand.  She  hadn't 
been  so  proud  of  anything  in  ages.  It  contained 
a  long  list  of  words  and  synonyms.  She  intended 
to  commit  them  to  memory  and  to  pronounce 
them  as  Mrs.  Lovell  did.  Only  she  would  never 
be  able  to  get  that  beautiful  accent.  Nobody  did 
in  the  West.  And,  besides,  the  girls  would  laugh. 


CHAPTER  VII 
HENRIETTA'S  DIARY 

"  I'VE  made  a  copy  of  the  list  of  words  Mrs. 
Lovell  gave  me,  for  you,  Min,"  Henrietta  said 
as  they  walked  to  school  a  few  days  later.  "  If 
you  memorize  them  and  pay  attention,  you'll  be 
educated  before  you  know  it.  Mrs.  Lovell  never 
makes  a  mistake  in  anything.  She  makes  words 
sound  like  music.  They're  all  sweet  and  creamy. 
I  think  it  would  be  fine  if  we'd  learn  these  I've 
put  down,  and  correct  each  other.  And  I've  got 
my  diary  written  up  now  and  you  can  take  it.  I 
wouldn't  let  anybody  in  the  world  but  my  dearest 
friend  see  it.  Some  of  the  pages  are  glued  to- 
gether at  the  corners,  'cause  I  didn't  want  even 
you  to  see  what  I  said.  Not  that  I  don't  trust 
you,  Min.  But  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  tempted. 
You  know  even  the  Lord  said  '  Get  thee  behind 
me,  Satan.  I  suppose  He  tried  not  to  look,  but 
He  must  have  wanted  to  dreadfully." 

Minnie  worked  away  at  her  algebra  faithfully 
until  time  for  class;  but  with  the  first  study  period 
her  curiosity  rose.  She  propped  the  diary  inside 
her  Latin  grammar  and  opened  the  pages  eag- 

96 


Henrietta's  Diary  97 

erly.  The  last  entry  met  her  eyes  first,  and  she 
read  it  through  before  turning  forward.  It 
read: 

"  Saturday,  October  3d. 

'  The  most  beautiful  thing  has  come  into  my 
life.  Mrs.  Lovell.  Mother  says  I  must  ap- 
preciate it  with  all  my  heart,  for  it  can  do  me 
more  good  than  twenty  schools  and  forty  Miss 
Ellwell's.  She  lives  in  a  big  house  on  Cascade 
Avenue  with  wide  porches  and  she  keeps  three 
maids  and  a  ch  —  I  can't  spell  it,  and  I've  lost 
my  dictionary.  Anyway,  they  used  to  call  it 
coachman,  only  they  haven't  any  horses  and  he 
runs  the  automobile.  Mrs.  Lovell  is  beautiful. 
Something  like  the  Lady  Gwendolyn,  I  imagine, 
only  her  hair  is  a  tiny  bit  gray  around  her  temples 
and  she's  a  wee  bit  stout.  Not  fat.  But  plump- 
ish.  She  wears  three  rings  on  her  left  hand  and 
a  wrist  watch.  The  rings  are  diamonds  and 
things  and  the  watch  is  so  little  you  can  hardly 
see  it.  When  she  wants  to  know  the  time  she 
looks  at  the  big  clock  in  the  hall.  Her  house 
is  wonderful  and  her  pictures  grand.  Oh,  I  for- 
got. She  said  not  to  use  grand  so  much.  I 
won't  again.  There  are  very  old-fashioned 
chairs  in  the  parlor.  She  calls  it  drawing-room, 
though  there  were  no  desks  or  easels.  Just  pic- 
tures already  painted.  There  was  a  table  with 
a  lot  of  legs,  too.  They  pull  out.  There  was 


98 


Only  Henrietta 


also  a  consurvatury  —  a  place  with  flowers  and 
birds.  I  saw  a  parrot  in  a  big  cage,  but  I  didn't 
get  to  talk  to  it  as  mother  told  me  to  tend  to  the 
business  in  hand.  Her  husband  is  not  hand- 
some, but  he  looks  good,  and  has  a  welcoming 
smile.  I  think  he  is  desperately  in  love  with  his 
wife,  for  he  seems  so  anxious  to  execute  her  de- 
signs. Hedwig  is  nice,  too.  That's  one  of  the 
maids.  Mrs.  Lovell  talks  so  nice  and  easy. 
I'm  going  to  copy  her  when  I  am  alone.  She 
hasn't  any  carpets  on  her  floors.  Just  strips  with 
funny  animals  on  them.  Camels  and  little  men 
and  dogs.  They  were  not  drawn  well.  I  could 
do  much  better  myself.  They  looked  like  this: 


J--3J 


"  They  have  chicken  for  lunch  and  hot  potatoes 
and  a  wobly  pudding  that  slips  down  easily  wirh 
whipped  cream.  The  maid  has  on  a  black  dress 
and  she  serves  with  a  napkin  under  each  plate 
and  doesn't  stack  the  dishes.  It  must  be  very 
nice  to  eat  without  any  noise  every  day  in  the 
week.  There  was  a  bowl,  too,  that  Mrs.  Lovell 
dipped  her  fingers  in  when  she  finished  eating. 
It  had  a  rose  geranium  floating  in  it.  There 


Henrietta's  Diary  99 

were  flowers  on  the  side  of  the  table  so  that  Mrs. 
Lovell  could  see  her  husband  when  she  talked. 
It  was  a  dreadful  comedown  to  return,  to  our 
old  parlor  with  the  stove  and  show  case  and 
things,  but  maybe  when  I  grow  up  I  can  make  a 
fortunate  marriage  and  get  rid  of  the  show  case. 
"  Mrs.  Lovell  says  I  must  change  my  vocaba- 
lary  and  get  some  new  words  to  put  on  my  ideas. 
She  says  to  think  of  words  as  people  and  dress 
them  up.  This  won't  be  hard  to  do  for  I  like 
to  make  things  seem  nicer  than  they  really  are. 
Sometimes  it  is  very  hard  to  hang  on  to  the 
truth,  but  I  always  try  to.  Mother  says  it  is 
very  stupid  to  tell  a  lie.  You  can't  always  re- 
member what  you've  said,  and  get  mixed  up. 
You  never  forget  the  truth.  Mrs.  Lovell  has 
gray  eyes  and  dark  hair.  Mother  says  it  is  in 
fine  condition  and  it  has  responded  to  the  treat- 
ment something  remarkable.  She  has  nice  nails, 
too.  Very  shiny.  I  am  going  to  try  to  be 
worthy  of  her  friendship." 


"  September  I5th. 

"  I  simply  hate  Miss  Elwell.  She  is 
so  hard  to  look  at.  Her  mouth  goes 
down  at  the  corners  like  this.  I  know 
she  doesn't  like  me  for  she's  always 
picking.  I  forgot  to  do  my  composi- 
tion the  other  day  and  she  put  a  note  on 


100  'Only  Henrietta 

my  desk  that  said,  '  You  have  not  brought  up  youi 
work  this  week.  What  are  your  intentions  for 
the  future  ?  '  I  wrote  on  the  side,  '  I  forgot. 
Will  try  to  strengthen  my  memory.'  She  is  so 
sarcastic,  too.  The  other  day  when  Van  Dyne 
Walcott  yawned  she  said,  '  Don't  fly  away,  Mr, 
Walcott.  We  need  your  inspiration  in  the  class.' 
Miss  Norris  is  queer,  too.  I  didn't  get  a  good 
mark  in  my  physical  education  test  this  week, 
We  had  to  tell  how  to  take  care  of  frozen  feet, 
and  I  forgot  to  say  first  remove  the  shoes.  She 
took  off  ten  for  it.  I  should  have  thought  she'd 
have  known  they  had  to  come  off.  Most  any- 
body would.  Teachers  are  so  funny." 

"  September  i6th. 

"  I  believe  the  girls  are  getting  up  something 
that  they  don't  want  me  to  be  in.  They  have 
been  whispering  in  the  halls  all  day  and  in  Al- 
gebra Lucy  leaned  over  my  lap,  and,  digging 
her  sharp  elbow  into  me,  said,  '  we  can  have 
that  —  you  know  —  at  our  house  in  the  attic.' 
I  said,  'Why  don't  you  spell  it,  Lucy?'  and 
she  looked  kind  a  cheap.  Lucy  is  trying  to  get 
into  Nancy  Dare's  set.  She  don't  speak  to  me 
unless  she  can  help  it  when  she's  with  any  of  them. 
The  other  day  I  was  in  the  cloak  room  bending 
over  and  I  heard  Nancy  say:  'Who  is  that  girl 
with  the  lovely  blue  eyes  and  black  hair,'  and  Lucy 


Henrietta's  Diary  101 

said  :  *  Oh,  she's  only  Henrietta  Kirby.  Her 
mother  is  a  hairdresser,'  and  Nancy  said  so 
queer,  'Oh!'" 

Here  the  page  was  glued.  If  Minnie  had  read 
on  she  would  have  seen: 

"  Oh,  dear,  it  just  seems  as  if  I  couldn't  stand 
it  sometimes.  I  hate  hair.  I  wish  there  wasn't 
such  a  thing  in  the  world.  I  don't  see  why  people 
couldn't  have  had  feathers  like  birds,  then  they 
could  take  care  of  them  theirselves.  I  hate  my 
father  for  not  coming  home  and  taking  care  of 
us  and  I  hate  Lucy  Gates  with  her  stuck  up  ways. 
I  wish  she'd  lose  her  father  and  have  to  do  hair 
and  things.  Oh,  no  I  don't  either.  I  wouldn't 
want  anybody  in  the  world  to  feel  as  bad  as  I  do. 
And  see  their  mother  getting  thinner  and  thinner 
every  day  and  giving  you  the  biggest  half  of  the 
bread  and  taking  the  crust  for  herself.  There's 
another  reason,  too.  Mother  says  that  every 
bad  wish  we  make  for  others  comes  back  on  us. 
T  couldn't  stand  any  more.  I  just  couldn't." 


"  September 
"  It's  a  play.  I  knew  it  was  something, 
Minnie  told  me  at  fifth  period.  They  got  it  out 
of  a  magazine  and  they're  going  to  have  it  in  the 
Gates'  attic  and  charge  ten  cents.  It  makes  me 
sick  not  to  be  in  it,  but  I  suppose  if  they  don't 
want  me  to  I  can't.  I  think  it  is  because  Nancv 


102  Only  Henrietta 

Dare  and  that  crowd  are  coming.  Min  is  to  be  a 
page.  She  doesn't  have  to  say  a  word,  but  she'll 
be  in  it,  and  a  page's  costume  is  pretty.  All 
plush  and  stuff." 

"  September  22nd. 

"  It  seems  most  too  good  to  be  true,  but  I'm 
in  it.  They  had  to  have  some  one  that  was 
dark  for  Blue  Beard's  wife.  That's  me.  Fa- 
tima.  It's  the  leading  part  and  it  happened  like 
this.  Nancy  Dare  is  managing  it.  She's  had 
quite  a  good  deal  of  experience  getting  up  plays 
and  things  in  barns  when  she  was  little.  Lucy 
was  bound  to  be  Fatima,  but  Nancy  said  it  was 
ridiculous  with  her  light  hair  and  weak  eyes.  She 
thinks  she's  going  to  have  to  get  glasses.  So 
Nancy  said,  (Min  told  me),  '  I'll  tell  you  who's 
the  very  type.  That  girl  I  saw  you  with  the 
other  day  down  in  town.  She's  got  style  and 
she's  dark.'  I'm  perfectly  crazy  about  my  part. 
It  is  very  tragic.  There  is  one  place  where  I 
have  to  say: 

1 '  Oh,  sister,  round  me  clings  my  shroud 
What  do  you  see  beneath  the  cloud  ?  ' 

"And  Anne  says,  (that's  Hatty  Lee,) 
' '  Oh,  joy,  two  horsemen  do  I  see ! ' ' 

'  Then  Blue  Beard  stamps  in  with  an  awful 
leer  and  says, 


Henrietta's  Diary  103 

"  '  Ber-lood !     Ber-lood !     Prepare  to  die. 
Now,  retched  woman  breathe  thy  last.'  " 

"  When  he  says  it  my  blood  gets  cold  with  shiv- 
vers.  I  almost  believe  I  will  go  on  the  stage. 
The  life  is  so  exciting.  I  can  never  say  again 
there  is  no  answer  to  prayer.  I  prayed  for  two 
nights  to  get  in  the  play.  Minnie's  aunt  would 
say  it  was  a  demonstration." 

"  September  26th. 

"  Oh,  dear,  the  weather  has  turned  cold  and 
mother  made  me  put  on  flannels.  I  could  stand 
the  flannels  though  I  hate  them,  but  to-day  I  had 
a  cold  and  she  put  some  newspaper  on  my  chest 
to  keep  out  the  draft.  Everytime  I  got  up  to 
recite  it  rattled  and  Van  Dyne  Walcott  laughed. 
I  shall  never  use  newspapers  on  my  children.  It 
may  be  good  for  drafts  but  it  is  embarrassing.  I 
wonder  if  you  could  escape  flannels  by  marriage." 

Again  the  page  was  glued  and  it  was  just  as 
well  that  Minnie  did  not  see. 

"  September  27th. 

'*  Van  Dyne  Walcott  gave  me  an  orange  to- 
day. I  didn't  want  to  take  it  but  he  said  he  got 
it  out  of  Satanley  Dare's  lunch  box  when  he  went 
down  to  the  locker  and  he  didn't  want  it.  Van 
Dyne  is  very  good  looking  for  a  boy.  I  think 


104  Only  Henrietta 

Lucy  likes  him.  She  takes  Civics  just  to  be  in 
his  class.  She  didn't  say  so,  but  I  know  it  by 
something.  He  has  rather  thin  hair.  I  wish 
he  knew  about  our  tonic,  but  I  wouldn't  tell  hiro 
for  worlds.  Maybe  he'll  outgrow  it.  He  has 
good  taste  in  everything.  Specially  neckties. 
They  are  most  generally  red.'* 

"  September  3Oth. 

"  Van  Dyne  Walcott  had  to  go  to  the  office 
to-day.  I  happened  to  be  in  there  waiting  to 
speak  with  Professor  Howard.  Miss  Ellwell 
brought  him  in.  She  preceded  him.  She  told 
Professor  Howard  an  awful  lot  of  things  about 
him  and  Van  Dyne  just  stood  by  the  window  look- 
ing out  and  not  paying  the  least  attention.  Fi- 
nally Professor  Howard  says,  '  Van  Dyne,  is  this 
true,'  and  Van  Dyne  says:  '  Is  what  true?  '  And 
Professor  Howard  says,  '  What  your  teacher 
says.' 

"And  Van  Dyne  says:  'What  did  she  say?' 
And  Miss  Ellwell  just  threw  up  her  hands  and 
walked  out  almost  in  histericks.  I  suppose  boys 
are  hard  to  manage." 

"  October  2nd. 

"  There  has  been  a  lot  of  trouble  in  school 
to-day.  Van  Dyne  Walcott  is  likely  to  be  ex- 
pelled. What  he  did  was  awful,  but  I  can't 
blame  him  much  knowing  Miss  Ellwell.  It  was 


Henrietta's  Diary 


105 


at  noon  and  Van  Dyne  had  a  crowd  of  boys  drill- 
ing them  like  Lutenant  Sells  does  the  seniors. 
They  had  sticks  for  guns  and  were  making  an 
awful  racket.  Miss  Ellwell  put  her  head  out 
of  the  window  and  told  them  to  desist.  They 
didn't  do  it,  but  just  kept  on  yelling.  She  yelled 
again  and  said  she'd  report  them  every  one  to 
Professor  Howard.  Then  Van  Dyne  raised  a 


stick  real  traggic  and  called  out  as  clear  as  any- 
thing, '  Who  touches  a  hair  of  that  old  gray 
head  dies  like  a  dog.  March  on.'  Miss  Ell- 
well  had  to  be  carried  into  the  rest  room  and  put 


106  Only  Henrietta 

water  on  before  she  got  over  her  anger.     I  think 
she  ought  to  try  and  control  her  wrath." 

For  fifteen  minutes  Minnie  sat  with  the  diary 
behind  her  Latin  book,  entranced.  She  was  so 
absorbed  that  she  did  not  see  Miss  Ellwell  leave 
the  desk  and  take  a  position  at  the  back  of  the 
study  hall.  Nor  did  she  see  her  come  slowly  up 
the  aisle  and  pause  by  her  desk.  In  fact  Miss 
Ellwell's  remark,  direct,  and  to  the  point,  fright- 
ened her  into  a  chill. 

"  I  will  take  charge  of  this  book  which  seems 
to  be  so  absorbing,  Miss  Haswell,"  she  said, 
reaching  for  it. 

Minnie's  heart  thumped  like  a  trip  hammer. 
What  should  she  do?  To  hand  the  book  over 
to  Miss  Ellwell  meant  ruin  for  Henrietta.  She 
felt  sure  that  Miss  Ellwell  would  not  respect  even 
the  glued  pages,  to  say  nothing  of  the  rest. 

"  I  can't  give  it  to  you,  Miss  Ellwell,"  she 
managed  to  find  voice  to  say  presently.  "  It  isn't 
mine  to  give.  It  was  just  lent  to  me." 

Miss  Ellwell  stood  with  one  hand  extended. 
"  Give  me  the  book,"  she  said,  impatiently. 

"  But  I  can't.     It  isn't  mine  to  give." 

Miss  Ellwell  reached  for  it,  but  Minnie  held 
it  tight. 

"  Miss  Haswell,  you  may  either  give  me  that 
book  or  take  it  to  the  office." 


Henrietta's  Diary  107 

Minnie  chose  the  alternative. 

When  she  got  out  the  study  hall  door  she 
paused  irresolutely.  She  had  half  a  mind  to  go 
home  and  hide  the  book  —  lose  it,  drop  it  down 
the  well,  anything  to  keep  it  out  of  the  teacher's 
hands  and  save  Henrietta.  Poor  little  Henri- 
etta, who  had  about  as  much  as  she  could  stand. 

She  started  up  the  stairs  after  a  moment  and 
went  toward  Professor  Howard's  door  hesitat- 
ingly. She  hoped  he  wasn't  in.  It  would  give 
her  more  time  to  think  what  she  would  say. 

But  he  was  in,  and  very  busy.  He  scarcely 
noticed  Minnie  as  she  entered  the  room  in  re- 
sponse to  his  short,  "  Come  in."  He  finished 
with  some  papers  on  his  desk  and  turned 
abruptly. 

"What  is  it,  Miss  Haswell?"  he  asked. 

Minnie's  face  was  pale  and  the  hand  that  held 
the  book  shook. 

"  Miss  Ellwell  sent  me  up,  sir,"  she  began 
falteringly.  "  I  was  reading  this  book  when  I 
should  have  been  getting  my  lesson  in  Latin  and 
she  saw  me  and  come  down  and  said  I  had  to 
give  it  to  her,  and  I  couldn't  because  — " 

"  Because  —  yes  ?  " 

"  Because  it  isn't  mine  to  give.  It  belongs  to 
Henrietta  Kirby.  I'm  her  best  friend  and  she  let 
me  see  it  —  all  but  the  glued  pages.  It's  her  in- 
nermost thoughts,  and  there  were  some  things  in 


108  Only  Henrietta 

it  about  some  people  —  some  people  Henrietta 
don't  like,  and  if  Miss  Ellwell  saw  it  —  why,  it 
would  be  dreadful." 

"  But  did  you  think  for  a  moment  that  Miss 
Ellwell  would  read  anything  of  so  personal  a  na- 
ture?" 

"  Well  —  I  wouldn't  like  to  trust  her.  She 
don't  like  Henrietta  a  bit.  I  would  much  rather 
give  it  to  you,  though  I  haven't  the  right  to  give 
it  to  anybody.  It  was  lent  me  in  secret." 

'  You  mean  in  confidence,  Miss  Haswell." 

"Yes,   sir." 

"  You  may  return  the  book  to  your  friend," 
Professor  Howard  said  presently,  "  and  tell  her 
to  leave  it  at  home  in  the  future.  Then  you  may 
go  to  Miss  Ellwell  and  ask  her  to  do  what  she 
thinks  best  in  the  matter  of  discipline.  We  can- 
not have  rules  broken  in  the  study  period.  You 
are  there  for  a  definite  purpose,  and  the  laws  of 
the  school  must  be  obeyed." 

Minnie  felt  as  though  a  mountain  had  been 
lifted  from  her  shoulders. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  she  said  with  more  en- 
thusiasm than  she  was  wont  to  show  ordinarily. 
"  I  don't  care  what  Miss  Ellwell  does  to  me.  I 
think  she  kind  a  likes  me  —  or  did  until  to-day. 
I  always  try  to  have  good  lessons  for  her.  I'll 
tell  her  right  away." 

But  for  all  Minnie's  confidence,  the  interview 


Henrietta's  Diary  109 

was  not  pleasant.  Miss  Ellwell  was  not  to  be 
appeased.  She  chose  the  punishment  most  hu- 
miliating to  Minnie.  She  removed  her  to  the 
front  of  the  room  where  she  kept  pupils  whom 
she  could  not  trust.  She  said  so  frankly. 

Henrietta  watched  the  transfer  in  amazement. 
She  could  scarcely  believe  her  eyes,  or  wait  until 
school  was  closed  to  find  out  what  was  the  matter. 

"  What  did  Miss  Ellwell  change  your  seat  for, 
Min,"  she  asked  when  they  were  safely  outside 
the  building. 

"  Oh,  she  tehought  I'd  be  company  for  her,  I 
guess,"  Minnie  said  with  an  effort  at  humor. 

"  Oh,  honest  Min,  what  did  she?  " 

"  Ask  her,  Henrietta." 

"  Yes,  catch  me.  She  had  some  reason,  tell 
me." 

"  Oh,  nobody  ever  knows  why  she  does  things. 
She  just  does  them.  Here's  your  diary.  I  think 
it's  fine.  Aren't  you  glad  Van  Dyne  is  back  to- 
day? I  knew  they  wouldn't  expel  him,  with  his 
father  mayor  of  the  town  and  president  of  the 
school  board.  If  it  had  been  Sam  Martin  he'd 
never  have  darkened  the  doors  again." 

"  Yes,  but  he  had  to  write  an  apology  and 
read  it  before  the  whole  room  in  English.  He 
was  as  red  as  a  beet,  too,  and  you  could  hardly 
understand  a  word  he  said  he  went  so  fast." 

"Did  Miss  Ellwell  accept  it?" 


110  Only  Henrietta 

"  She  just  nodded  when  he  finished  and  told 
him  to  be  seated.  She  didn't  need  to  tell  him. 
He  was  back  at  his  desk  quicker  than  you  could 
wink." 

Minnie  dropped  her  voice  and  edged  closer  to 
Henrietta.  "  I'm  glad  he's  back,  anyway.  He 
makes  things  so  lively.  He's  good  looking,  too, 
isn't  he?  Most  of  the  girls  are  crazy  about 
him." 

Henrietta  nodded,  but  she  changed  the  sub- 
ject abruptly. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  all  ready  for  the  rehearsal 
this  afternoon,"  she  said  by  way  of  conversation. 

"  There  isn't  much  to  get  ready  for  a  page." 

"  Maybe  you'll  hear  me  say  my  lines.  Wait 
until  we  get  across  the  viaduct  for  I  have  to 
shout  a  little.  You  can't  call  for  help  without 
attracting  attention.  Oh,  Min,  I  love  the  place 
where  I  have  to  try  to  get  the  blood  off  the  key. 
The  lines  are  so  thrilling:  " 

'  Rub,  rub,  rub,  as  hard  as  e'er  you  can ! 
Scrub,  scrub,  scrub,  oh,  harder,  Sister  Anne ! 
Hark,  hark,  hark, 
Do  you  hear  a  footstep  fall  ? 
What  should  we  do  if  old 
Blue  Beard  came  back? 
Oh  — dear  — me!'" 

"  And  you  do  it  simply  wonderful,  Henrietta ! 


Henrietta's  Diary  111 

It  makes  me  shiver  all  over.  If  I  was  you  I'd 
go  on  the  stage.  Anyway,  I'd  try  out  for  the 
dramatics  next  year.  It's  fine  practice." 

They  walked  up  the  broad  sandy  road  that 
led  to  the  West  side.  For  all  it  was  October  the 
sun  shone  brightly  and  now  and  then  a  bird,  be- 
guiled by  the  autumn  air,  broke  into  song  or 
called  to  its  mate. 

Henrietta  paused  at  her  own  gate. 

"  Don't  you  wish  we  could  live  out  doors  al- 
ways, Min?  "  she  said  wistfully.  "I  do. 
Maybe  I  wouldn't  if  I  lived  in  your  house.  It 
isn't  part  office  like  ours.  And,  then,  your  fa- 
ther's always  cheerful  and  everything,  and  — " 

"  Yes,  but  you've  got  your  Mother,  Henri- 
etta." 

"  Yes;  that's  so.  I  have.  Things  do  seem 
to  sort  of  even  up  after  all,  don't  they?  But  I'd 
just  as  soon  trade  the  hair  business  for  some 
other  blessing  if  I  could.  Good-by.  See  you  at 
rehearsal." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

OLD  MEMORIES 

"  MOTHER?  " 

"Yes,  dear." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  call  me  *  Henri- 
etta'?" 

Mrs.  Kirby,  as  usual,  was  busy  with  her  steam- 
ing kettles,  and  did  not  answer  immediately. 

"  Tell  me,  Mother." 

"  You  were  named  for  your  father  —  and  me. 
It  is  a  combination  of  the  two  names:  Henry 
and  Etta." 

"Oh!" 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute  while  Mrs. 
Kirby  tested  the  strength  and  color  of  the  tonic 
on  the  stove. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  very  pretty." 

"Don't  you?" 

"I  do  so  wish  it  might  have  been  Mary 
Jane  or  Betty  Lu  or  Dorothy.  Something 
stylish." 

"  When  you  are  older,  Henrietta,  you  will  find 
that  names  matter  very  little  so  long  as  you  keep 

them  clean." 

112 


Old  Memories  113 

"  Or  Betsy,"  Henrietta  went  on  as  if  she  had 
not  heard.  "  Betsy  is  terribly  fashionable,  and 
so  is  Priscilla.  Why  couldn't  you  have  thought 
of  Priscilla?" 

A  gleam  of  memory  flashed  in  Mrs.  Kirby's 
dark  eyes. 

"  We  began  calling  you  '  little  Henry  '  before 
you  came  to  us,  and  it  was  so  easy  to  add  the 
Etta.  We  thought  it  a  very  nice  name." 

"  Nancy  Dare  thinks  it  would  be  better  if  we'd 
change  the  spelling.  She  thought  of  '  Henri- 
ette.'  " 

"  I  think  we  will  continue  the  way  you  were 
christened,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Rirby  said  in  her 
gentle,  yet  positive  way. 

Henrietta  sighed  as  she  picked  up  her  books 
and  went  into  the  bedroom  to  look  over  her  les- 
sons before  starting  to  school. 

"Why  don't  you  go  in  the  front  room? 
There's  a  fire  there,"  her  mother  called  after 
her. 

"  I'm  not  cold.  You  keep  pretty  hot  getting 
Latin,"  came  the  quick  response. 

The  door  had  scarcely  closed  between  them 
when  Mrs.  Kirby  put  her  hand  over  her  mouth 
and  tried  to  strangle  an  ugly  cough  that  had  come 
with  the  late  summer.  The  effort  brought 
bright  crimson  spots  in  her  cheeks  and  an  unusual 
brilliance  to  her  eyes. 


114  Only  Henrietta 

"  I  hope  I'm  not  going  to  have  grippe  again 
this  winter,"  she  thought,  as  she  glanced  in  the 
mirror  beside  the  door.  "  I'm  all  run  down  and 
anything  might  fasten  on  me." 

She  recalled  her  first  days  in  Colorado  and 
her  chance  patient.  Mrs.  Endburg  had  been 
very  kind  to  her  and  she  had  watched  her  die 
with  sorrow  and  alarm.  What  if  she  should 
contract  tuberculosis !  She  was  not  over  strong. 
What  would  become  of  Henrietta ! 

The  thought  brought  her  breath  in  a  quick 
gasp,  and  the  color  in  her  cheeks  flamed  to  a 
deeper  scarlet. 

"  I  must  begin  to  plan  for  her  future,"  she 
thought,  half  aloud.  "  Besides,  she  must  be 
something  better  than  a  hair  specialist." 

An  hour  later  Mrs.  Kirby  finished  her  work 
and  left  the  house.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning. 
Autumn  had  been  coming  on  slowly.  The  air 
had  a  fresh,  delicious  tang,  and  the  leaves  on  the 
cottonwood  trees  were  brilliant  with  color. 
Over  to  the  west,  where  the  foothills  climbed  to 
the  mountains,  sumac  and  golden  aspen  lay  in 
splashes  of  Oriental  splendor. 

"  Looks  like  somebody  had  spread  Mrs.  Lov- 
ell's  rugs  over  them,"  Henrietta  had  remarked 
earlier  in  the  morning. 

Mrs.  Kirby  was  in  a  hurry,  but  she  stopped  for 
a  moment  to  look  at  the  mountains  and  fill  her 


Old  Memories  115 

lungs  with  the  pure,  crisp  air  that  swept  down 
from  the  Peak's  glittering  crown. 

"  How  foolish  to  worry  about  sickness  when 
you  can  breathe  that"  she  thought;  but  she  pulled 
her  coat  collar  closer  about  her  throat  and  kept 
her  hand  on  her  chest. 

Up  the  avenu-e  she  walked,  glancing  back  now 
and  then  at  the  blue  sky  line.  The  long  range 
of  mountains  seemed  to  throw  a  protecting  arm 
round  the  nestling  village. 

The  houses  interested  her,  too:  splendid  man- 
sions with  wide  verandas  and  sleeping  porches. 
Their  elegance  made  her  feel  shabby  and  inferior, 
but  still  she  liked  to  look  at  them  and  picture  the 
carefree  life  that  went  on  within. 

Sometimes  she  wondered  what  strange  fate 
had  brought  her  halfway  across  the  Continent, 
landing  her  on  bleak  barren  soil.  Life  was  such 
a  mystery. 

There  were  times,  especially  in  the  fall  of  the 
year,  when  she  grew  a  bit  homesick  for  the  New 
England  hills;  the  soft  balmy  air  of  the  late 
Indian  summers.  She  missed  the  haze  that  hung 
low  over  the  valleys,  and  the  long  vistas  of 
heavenly  color.  Colorado  was  wonderful,  but  its 
vastness,  its  wide  desolate  spaces  and  deep  cav- 
ernous canons  sometimes  frightened  her. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  late  autumn  glory  that  took 
her  back  this  morning.  At  any  rate,  a  vision 


116  Only  Henrietta 

crept  slowly  before  her  eyes:  green,  thickly 
wooded  hills  —  she  had  thought  them  mountains 
until  she  viewed  the  Rockies  —  cattle  grazing  on 
the  slopes;  the  steeple  of  an  old  lighthouse  lift- 
ing its  head  to  the  sky.  How  peaceful  it  all 
seemed  in  retrospect,  and  yet  she  had  known  so 
little  peace. 

Another  vision  came  —  and  lingered.  It  was 
of  the  college  town  where  she  had  met  her  boyish 
lover.  She  could  see  the  bright,  placid  waters 
of  Lake  Champlain  gleaming  in»the  sunlight,  the 
wide  elm  embowered  avenues,  the  quaint  old- 
fashioned  homes  —  one  in  particular,  set  at  the 
head  of  a  pretentious  street. 

She  recalled  the  first  time  she  climbed  the 
flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  big  oak  door,  and 
timidly  pulled  the  brass  knocker.  And  the 
merry,  fun  loving  face  of  the  wavy-haired  boy 
who  opened  the  door  to  her  and  then  left  her 
stranded  in  the  gloomy  hall  with  its  stately  fur- 
niture. 

The  thought  of  the  boy  made  her  pause  sud- 
denly and  put  her  hand  over  her  heart  to  stop  its 
fluttering. 

How  handsome  he  had  been  on  that  May 
morning,  and  what  covert  glances  she  had  cast 
after  him  up  the.  broad  stairs.  He  had  paused 
at  the  top,  remembering  his  manners  and  called 
out  cheerily: 


Old  Memories  117 

"  Have  a  seat  in  the  parlor,  won't  you?  Aunt 
Hester  will  be  down  in  a  minute." 

And  she  had  wandered  into  the  big  dark  room 
at  the  right  of  the  hall  and  seated  herself  on  the 
very  edge  of  one  of  the  black  horsehair  chairs, 
where  she  waited  patiently.  It  was  a  part  of 
Aunt  Hester's  creed  to  move  slowly. 

But  she  came  downstairs  at  last,  her  cane 
tapping  the  polished  steps,  her  stiff  black  silk 
skirts  rustling  elegantly,  and  stopped  at  the  par- 
lor door. 

"  The  entrance  for  trades-people  is  at  the  side 
of  the  house,  not  the  front,"  she  remarked. 
Then  she  led  the  way  to  the  back  sitting-room 
and  raised  a  window  blind  grudgingly. 

Etta  Kirby's  mind  wandered  back  over  those 
old  scenes,  tracing  and  retracing  them  as  one 
would  the  figure  in  a  pattern.  There  had  been 
chance  meetings  with  the  boy  after  that;  some- 
times when  she  returned  a  bundle  of  sewing  or 
called  for  new  work.  And  there  came  a  night 
when  he  brought  a  bundle  to  her  door,  and 
chatted  for  a  moment  in  the  moonlight. 

"  Been  out  for  fresh  air  to-day?  "  he  asked  as 
he  was  about  to  turn  away. 

No;  she  had  been  sewing  steadily. 

"  Get  your  hat  and  I'll  take  you  for  a  spin," 
he  had  said  kindly.  "  Come  on.  I  dare  you." 

She  had  been  a  little  stunned  at  the  proposi- 


118  Only  Henrietta 

tion,  but  his  blue  eyes  teased,  and  she  was  so 
tired. 

"  You'll  have  to  wait  a  minute  until  I  change 
my  dress  and  get  a  coat,"  she  faltered. 

That  was  the  beginning.  The  rides  grew  in 
number;  always  after  dark,  but  it  mattered  little. 
She  was  too  busy  to  go  in  the  daytime,  even  if 
he  had  asked  her. 

Love  is  a  strange,  alluring  thing.  Etta  Kirby 
could  no  more  have  helped  loving  the  charming 
boy  that  held  those  reins  beside  her  than  she 
could  have  stopped  breathing  —  and  lived.  She 
managed  to  exist  through  the  day  because  the 
evening  brought  him!  And  he  dreamed  of  her 
over  his  Greek  and  Latin.  Her  shy,  Irish  eyes 
with  their  black  curling  lashes  ensnared  him,  un- 
fitted him  for  work  or  for  play. 

The  climax  to  the  long  rides  and  secret  meet- 
ings was  not  unexpected.  Gossip  came  to  his 
aunt's  ears.  There  was  a  stormy  scene  behind 
the  closed  doors  of  the  stately  parlor.  The  aunt 
threatened.  The  boy  defied;  snapping  his  fin- 
gers at  her  authority.  He  was  twenty-one.  He 
knew  what  he  -was  about. 

Threats  of  cutting  him  off  without  a  penny 
fell  on  deaf,  unheeding  ears.  What  were  his 
broad  shoulders,  his  strong  hands  for  if  not  to 
earn  a  living?  What  was  money  compared  with 
love?  A  girl  as  pretty  and  fine  as  Etta  was 


Old  Memories  119 

worth  thousands  of  ancestral  dollars!  He 
would  marry  her  if  the  whole  world  turned  him 
down. 

Etta  Kirby's  mind  leaped  forward  after  this 
memory,  plunging  to  darker  things:  days  of  dis- 
couragement, sickening  poverty,  endless  trials. 

She  could  see  again  the  little  cottage  in  an 
obscure  street  where  they  had  set  up  housekeep- 
ing. She  remembered  the  days  of  drudgery,  the 
boy's  fruitless  search  for  work,  and  then  .  .  . 
the  sunlight  streaming  through  an  open  window 
on  a  rude  crib  where  a  black-haired  baby  played 
with  its  coral  toes,  or  clutched  gleefully  at  the 
wavy  hair  of  the  man  who  bent  above.  But  the 
face  had  changed.  It  was  no  longer  boyish  and 
sunny.  There  were  lines  about  the  eyes  that  told 
of  sleepless  nights,  harassing  thoughts.  The 
mouth,  once  so  mirthful,  so  ready  to  break  in 
smiles,  was  dejected,  pathetic.  .  .  . 

She  hated  to  think  of  the  next  cycle  in  her 
married  life.  That  dreadful  day  when  she  had 
returned  from  work  to  find  him  gone.  Gone, 
she  knew  not  where  —  or  why.  And  yet  she 
knew  why.  The  humiliation  of  her  attempt  at 
earning  the  living  was  too  much  for  his  pride. 
She  had  seen  it  —  felt  it  coming.  There  had 
been  no  quarrel;  no  regrets,  so  far  as  she  knew. 
She  had  been  his  "  little  lady  "  to  the  end.  She 
never  knew  just  why  he  called  her  that.  Aunt 


120  Only  Henrietta 

Hester  could  have  told  her.  It  was  in  defense 
of  a  bitter  argument. 

She  was  still  deep  in  thought  when  Mrs.  Lov- 
ell's  high,  wrought  iron  gate  brought  her  to  a 
sudden  halt.  She  paused  for  a  moment  and 
forced  her  lips  into  a  smile.  Judkins  was  cross- 
ing the  lawn  and  hastened  to  open  the  gate. 

"  Fine  day,"  he  murmured  pleasantly,  and 
then,  "  You  oughtn't  to  be  coughing  like  that  in 
this  weather,  Mrs.  Kirby.  Don't  begin  cough- 
ing until  the  snow  flies.  Give  the  climate  a 
chance !  " 

"  It  isn't  the  climate,  Mr.  Judkins."  She  tried 
to  laugh.  "  It's  just  a  summer  cold  that  hangs 
on.  I  think  it's  in  the  air." 

"  It  sure  is,"  Judkins  answered.  "  With  all 
these  busted  lungers  sitting  round  in  the  parks, 
you  could  pick  the  bugs  out  of  the  air!"  He 
chuckled  as  he  walked  off  toward  the  garage. 

Busted  Lungers!  The  sound  of  the  words 
sent  a  chill  to  Mrs.  Kirby's  heart.  How  easy  it 
was  to  make  light  of  frailties  when  one  was 
strong. 

Mrs.  Lovell  was  waiting  for  her  in  the  bed- 
room upstairs.  She  had  drawn  the  chair  in  front 
of  the  mirror,  and  Mrs.  Kirby  began  operations 
at  once.  As  she  rubbed  and  brushed,  Mrs.  Lov- 
ell watched  her  in  the  glass. 

"  Seems  to  me  you're  looking  tired  this  morn- 


Old  Memories  121 

ing,"  she  said,  kindly.  "  Aren't  you  working  too 
hard?" 

'  Yes,  perhaps;  things  are  picking  up.  Every- 
body's coming  back  from  the  canons.  My  hours 
are  full." 

She  struggled  to  keep  back  the  cough.  She 
knew  (she  had  lived  in  Colorado  long  enough 
for  that)  there  were  those  who  refused  admit- 
tance to  the  thin  and  anemic.  Tuberculosis 
might  not  be  contagious,  but  that  didn't  keep 
people  from  taking  precaution.  Tuberculosis! 
She  was  making  a  mountain  out  of  a  molehill! 
Just  because  she  had  taken  cold. 

"  Henrietta's  enjoying  her  lessons  with  you 
more  than  anything  she's  ever  done,"  she  volun- 
teered presently.  "  I  tbink  she'll  know  the  dic- 
tionary by  heart  before  long.  She  isn't  satisfied 
with  the  words  you  give  her  to  put  in  sentences; 
she  looks  up  new  ones.  And  I  " —  she  laughed 
— "  I'm  going  through  a  course  of  sprouts  my- 
self. I'm  corrected  every  time  I  speak,  and  my 
table  manners  are  polished  regularly.  We  eat 
in  the  kitchen,  but  the  silver  must  be  laid  just 
so,  and  the  crumbs  brushed  between  meat  and 
dessert.  Henrietta's  latest  whim  is  for  bread 
and  butter  spreaders." 

"  Good  for  Henrietta." 

"  And  there  isn't  a  picture  in  the  house  that 
suits  her  since  she's  been  coming  up  here.  I  have 


122  Only  Henrietta 

two  or  three  that  I  like  to  keep  for  the  sake  of 
old  times.  They  were  among  my  first  house- 
keeping things." 

"  Where  did  you  begin  housekeeping,  Mrs. 
Kirby?" 

"In  —  in  the  East,  Mrs.  Lovell." 

"  The  East  is  a  big  place." 

"  Yes.     In  New  England." 

"  Really?  I'm  from  New  England.  Do  you 
know  Vermont?  My  old  home  was  in  Rolling- 
ton  —  a  university  town." 

The  falling  of  the  hair  brush  on  the  hardwood 
floor  made  such  a  clatter  that  Mrs.  Lovell 
jumped. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  Mrs.  Kirby  said,  "  I'm 
very  awkward  this  morning.  I  hope  I'm  not 
making  you  nervous." 

"No;  not  at  all.  What  part  of  New  Eng- 
land were  you  born  in?" 

"  I  don't  know  exactly.  Somewhere  in  Maine, 
I  fancy.  My  parents  died  when  I  was  very 
young,  and  I  was  left  in  a  Home,  Mrs.  Lovell. 
I  can't  boast  much  family." 

"Oh,  I  see!"  Mrs.  Lovell  hastened  to 
change  the  subject. 

Mrs.  Kirby  brushed  away  in  silence  for  a  few 
minutes.  She  was  thinking.  What  she  wanted 
to  say  made  her  feel  very  much  like  jumping  into 
a  tub  of  cold  water,  but  she  resolved  to  plunge. 


Old  Memories  123 

"  I  know  Rollington  —  a  little.  I  once  had 
some  customers  there." 

"Oh,  did  you?  I  wonder  if  I  knew  them,? 
Not  many  people  had  their  hair  and  nails  done 
in  my  day." 

Mrs.  Lovell  assumed  that  Etta  Kirby  had  fol- 
lowed her  profession  in  the  East.  She  was  quite 
interested.  "  Let  me  see,"  she  said,  going  over 
her  list  of  friends  thoughtfully,  "  did  you  know 
the  Andersons,  the  Whipples  —  the  Summers?" 

"  I  knew  Mrs.  Anderson,  slightly." 

"  Did  you  really?  She  and  I  were  girls  to- 
gether." 

"  And  I  knew  a  family  by  the  name  —  of 
Crosby."  Etta  Kirby  was  on  dangerous  ground, 
but  her  tones  were  level. 

"The  Henry  Crosbys!" 

"  This  was  a  maiden  lady." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Hester!  The  old  lady  who 
brought  up  young  Henry.  Well,  you  knew  the 
cream  of  the  town.  We  always  called  Aunt 
Hester  '  The  Dowager,'  although  she  had  never 
been  widowed.  She  was  always  so  high  and 
mighty:  such  an  old  aristocrat.  Did  you  know 
young  Henry?  " 

"  I  have  seen  him.  I  had  business  with  Miss 
Crosby."  Mrs.  Kirby  was  through  now  and  she 
went  over  to  the  bed  and  fumbled  with  the  sleeve 
of  her  coat. 


124  Only  Henrietta 

"Wasn't  he  handsome?  Henry  and  I  were 
great  friends.  We  lived  only  a  few  doors  from 
the  Crosbys.  Poor  fellow !  He  made  such  a 
sad  mistake.  Fell  in  love  with  a  little  seamstress 
that  sewed  for  his  aunt.  Married  her,  too. 
His  aunt  was  prostrated  —  and  furiously  angry. 
She  turned  him  out  of  the  house,  locked  up  his 
rooms  and  proceeded  to  forget  him.  They  say 
at  home  that  the  rooms  have  never  been  opened 
since  the  day  he  went  away;  that  his  things  are 
just  as  he  left  them.  Oh,  Aunt  Hester  was  firm! 
Never  a  Crosby  that  wasn't.  Let  them  set  their 
minds  to  a  thing  and  —  well, — "  She  glanced 
through  the  west  window  where  the  Peak  glit- 
tered in  the  sunlight — "  you  might  as  well  try  to 
move  that  mountain." 

"  And  he  married  her?  " 

"  He  did,  indeed.  But,  of  course,  this  doesn't 
interest  you.  It  seems  good  to  find  some  one 
way  out  here  who  knew  my  friends." 

"  I  knew  them  very  slightly,  Mrs.  Lovell  — 
most  of  them." 

"  Yes;  but  you  knew  them.  I  want  to  tell  you 
about  Henry  Crosby.  His  story  is  interesting. 
His  father  and  mother  died  when  he  was  very 
young  and  left  him  to  the  care  of  this  maiden 
aunt  who  was  rich.  It  was  queer  the  way  she 
inherited  the  Crosby  fortune;  but  that's  another 
story  —  another  feud,  too !  Anyway,  she 


Old  Memories  125 

adored  this  boy.  She  was  haughty  and  disagree- 
able, but  she  really  loved  Henry,  and  had  always 
intended  to  make  him  her  heir." 

"Yes  — her  heir?"  The  words  left  Etta 
Kirby's  throat  slowly. 

"  But  he  became  infatuated  with  this  girl  .  .  . 
nobody  knew  who  she  was  .  .  .  drifted  in  from 
somewhere  up  the  state.  .  .  .  And  he  defied  his 
aunt  and  everybody.  .  .  ." 

"Oh!" 

"Yes,  it  was  a  great  pity!  He  might  have 
had  a  wonderful  future.  He  was  bright  and 
clever  —  but  such  a  lad.  So  young  to  assume  re- 
sponsibility. And,  of  course,  'he  had  not  been 
trained  to  work" 

"What  became  of  him?" 

Mrs.  Lovell  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  ele- 
vated her  eyebrows. 

"  He  deserted  her.  We  could  never  under- 
stand that,  at  home.  It  wasn't  like  a  Crosby. 
They  are  willful  —  persistent,  but  they  are  chiv- 
alrous and  dependable.  Old  Mr.  Henry  Crosby, 
Henry's  grandfather,  was  the  corner  stone 
around  which  Rollington  was  built  .  .  .  solid  as 
the  ages.  But  I  suppose  the  boy  got  discour- 
aged. His  old  friends  cut  him,  and  he  hadn't 
been  trained  to  work." 

"Why  did  his  aunt  cut  him  off?  Wasn't  the 
girl  —  respectable?  " 


126  Only  Henrietta 

"  Oh,  perfectly.  No  one  ever  heard  a  breath 
of  scandal;  but  she  was  so  beneath  him.  You 
see,  we  have  conventions  in  the  East  —  especially 
in  New  England  —  very  silly  ones,  no  doubt, 
but  they  exist  just  the  same  .  .  .  traditions. 
Henry  Crosby  should  have  married  a  girl  in 
his  own  class  for  the  sake  of  posterity.  He 
had  intellect  to  pass  on  ...  wealth.  It  was 
a  terrible  mistake.  It  was  no  wonder  that  his 
aunt  took  it  so  hard.  It  must  have  been  a  bitter 
disappointment.  Mrs.  Kirby,  won't  you  sit  down 
a  moment?  You  look  so  white.  I  fear  you  are 
ill." 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  must  hurry  on.  I 
haven't  felt  well  for  several  days,  Mrs.  Lovell, 
but  it  is  only  a  cold.  I'll  shake  it  off." 

Mrs.  Kirby  scarcely  knew  how  she  reached  the 
door.  She  made  a  hasty  excuse  about  being  due 
at  the  next  place  and  got  out  into  the  air  as 
quickly  as  possible.  She  was  shaking  from  head 
to  foot,  and  she  could  no  longer  stifle  the  cough 
that  struggled  in  her  breast. 

"  He  should  have  married  in  his  own 
class  .  .  .  in  his  own  class!  The  words  rang 
in  her  brain  all  the  way  up  the  street.  Yes;  it 
was  true  .  .  .  who  could  deny  it  ...  and  yet 
.  .  .  the  cruelty  of  it.  Who  would  have  be- 
lieved that  Mrs.  Lovell  knew  Henry  Crosby? 
Still  —  it  was  not  surprising.  Everybody  came 


Old  Memories  127 

to  Colorado.     It  was  a  mecca  for  the  halt,  the 
blind,  the  rich. 

She  was  glad  for  once  that  Mrs.  Bradford 
lived  so  far  from  Mrs.  Lovell.  It  gave  her 
time  to  compose  herself  and  collect  her  scattered 
wits.  She  brought  every  particle  of  her  self-con- 
trol to  bear  upon  her  shaken  nerves  and  reached 
the  house  outwardly  calm. 

But  the  long  walk  home,  and  the  opportunity 
to  think,  brought  new  difficulties.  It  was  clear 
that  she  must  move  again:  take  Henrietta  away 
from  Good  Springs.  She  could  not  go  on  ac- 
cepting kindnesses  from  Mrs.  Lovell.  It  was 
unthinkable  —  underhanded.  Mrs.  Lovell  was 
Henry  Crosby's  friend  —  and  yet — (the 
thought  brought  her  to  a  full  stop  in  the  road) 
for  that  very  reason  why  shouldn't  she  do 
something  for  his  child?  give  Henrietta  a 
chance  .  .  .  tone  up  the  Crosby  blood.  Hen- 
rietta was  every  inch  a  Crosby,  except  for  her 
black  hair.  She  wondered  that  Mrs.  Lovell 
hadn't  observed  the  likeness.  .  .  .  Perhaps  she 
had.  .  .  . 

She  reached  home  tired  and  spent.  Henrietta 
never  came  to  lunch,  so  she  had  the  cottage  to 
herself.  She  hung  away  her  coat  and  hat  care- 
fully and  then  went  into  the  front  room  to  sit 
down  and  think.  The  Morris  chair  was  com- 
fortable, if  it  did  offend  Henrietta.  She  relaxed 


128  Only  Henrietta 

into  its  depths  with  a  sigh.  She  wondered  what 
was  the  matter :  she  felt  ill,  feverish. 

For  awhile  she  sat  staring  straight  ahead  with 
unseeing  eyes.  She  was  troubled.  Things  were 
closing  in  about  her.  To  reveal  her  identity  to 
Mrs.  Lovell  meant  disappointment  for  Henri- 
etta, and  she  was  getting  so  much  out  of  her  les- 
sons. It  meant  humiliation  for  herself,  and  she 
had  suffered  enough.  Besides,  her  affairs  were 
her  own.  She  could  not  endure  prying  eyes,  wag- 
ging tongues.  She  had  given  up  her  little  home 
in  the  East  to  escape  all  that. 

For  an  hour  she  sat  thinking,  planning.  Then 
she  came  to  a  firm  decision.  She  would  not  go 
away.  She  could  not,  now,  she  feared.  She 
needed  Colorado's  bracing  air  and  sunshine  to 
eliminate  the  cough  that  clung  so  tenaciously, 
and  she  needed  time  to  perfect  plans.  Neither 
would  she  give  up  Mrs.  Lovell.  She  would  keep 
on  doing  the  best  she  could  for  herself  and  Hen- 
rietta —  as  long  as  it  was  possible. 

She  sat  for  a  few  minutes  longer,  her  eyes 
wandering  over  the  shabby  furniture.  Slowly 
her  gaze  swept  the  room  —  the  show  case;  the 
stove;  the  faded  carpet  and  picture  above  the 
mantel  that  Henrietta  so  — 

Suddenly  she  gave  a  start.  Why,  what  was  the 
matter?  Something  was  wrong.  Or  was  she 
so  ill  that  she  could  not  see  straight?  No;  the 


Old  Memories  129 

paper  looked  streaked  and  gray  .  .  .  was  it  pos- 
sible .  .  .  had  Henrietta  dared?  Yes;  it  was 
gone !  The  last  gift  of  dear  old  Doctor  Burke, 
her  friend  and  benefactor. 

She  got  to  her  feet  unsteadily;  fatigue  and  ex- 
citement had  weakened  her.  She  was  in  no  con- 
dition to  lose  her  temper  —  a  thing  which  rarely 
happened  —  when  she  did  she  was  ill  for  days. 

She  looked  all  of  her  thirty-four  years  and 
more,  as  she  crossed  the  room  and  ran  her  hand 
caressingly  over  the  space  where  the  picture 
had  hung.  Dear  old  Doctor  Burke  .  .  .  how 
kind  he  had  been  to  her.  All  the  kindness  she 
had  ever  known  had  come  from  him.  And  now, 
Henrietta  had  taken  away  his  last  gift.  How 
could  she  have  been  so  cruel,  so  heedless  I  She 
had  only  hidden  it,  of  course. 

But  a  thorough  search  of  the  rooms  failed  to 
reveal  its  presence.  She  thought  of  the  bed- 
room, the  storeroom  closet.  It  was  not  there. 
Well,  she  would  have  to  wait  until  Henrietta  re- 
turned from  school.  And  she  would  punish  her 
for  taking  such  liberties.  It  was  only  a  little 
thing,  to  lose  a  picture,  to  be  sure,  and  yet  the 
association  — 

Wearily  she  dragged  herself  into  the  bedroom, 
her  hand  on  her  chest.  The  pain  there  was  like 
a  knife.  The  cough  seemed  to  tear  at  her  lungs. 
How  interminable  the  day  had  been,  and  it  was 


130  Only  Henrietta 

only  three  o'clock!  She  would  rest  for  half  an 
hour.  It  was  like  stealing  to  take  the  time;  but 
she  was  so  tired.  Besides,  if  she  could  only 
sleep  she  could  forget. 

She  went  back  on  second  thought  and  locked 
the  kitchen  door,  picked  up  some  of  Henrietta's 
clothes  that  had  been  left  on  the  back  of  a  chair; 
laid  the  fire  in  the  kitchen  stove  so  that  she  might 
hurry  dinner,  later.  Henrietta  always  came 
home  from  school  hungry. 

Then  she  went  into  the  bedroom  and  threw 
herself  across  the  foot  of  the  bed,  her  arm  under 
her  head  for  a  pillow. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ANXIOUS    DAYS 

TRIALS  influence  character  in  two  ways. 
They  sour  and  embitter,  or  they  purge  and  purify. 

Life  had  softened  Etta  Kirby;  tempered  her 
judgment.  Deprivation  had  taught  her  patience; 
she  accepted  each  day  as  a  gracious  gift  and  ruled 
out  complexities  as  best  she  could.  She  knew 
that  if  she  gave  way  to  passion  and  discourage- 
ment she  weakened  her  vitality,  and  she  required 
all  she  could  muster  for  the  need  of  the  hour. 

But  Henrietta's  audacity  in  removing  the  pic- 
ture from  its  accustomed  place  had  put  her  in  a 
white  heat  of  anger.  Her  physical  condition 
may  have  contributed  largely  to  her  state  of  mind, 
for  she  was  ill. 

There  had  been  so  many  discussions  about  the 
picture,  and  she  had  distinctly  said  that  she  wished 
it  left  where  it  was.  She  had  not  thought  it 
necessary  to  tell  Henrietta  that  she  cherished  it 
because  it  was  the  one  link  that  held  her  to  her 
childhood.  Perhaps  she  had  not  been  quite  fair; 
but  she  seldom  mentioned  her  past  life.  That 
was  a  closed  chapter. 

131 


132  Only  Henrietta 

It  did  not  take  Henrietta  long  to  discover  that 
something  was  amiss  when  she  came  in  from 
school.  Her  mother  was  making  an  effort  to 
freshen  up  after  a  nap,  and  requested  her  to  go 
into  the  parlor  and  sit  down.  She  wished  to 
speak  with  her. 

Henrietta  deposited  her  books  on  the  show 
case  and  drew  a  chair  up  to  the  base  burner.  She 
was  not  unprepared  for  what  was  coming  and 
braced  herself  for  the  ordeal. 

Her  mother  came  in  a  moment  later  and  sank 
down  in  the  Morris  chair  wearily. 

"  I  want  to  know  what  you  have  done  with  the 
picture  that  hung  there?  "  she  said,  pointing  with 
a  straight  forefinger.  Her  words  were  sharp 
and  clear. 

Henrietta's  face  turned  a  rich  crimson.  She 
hesitated  only  a  minute. 

"I  —  drowned  it.     You  see  —  I  —  it  — " 

Mrs.  Kirby  sat  as  if  turned  to  stone. 

"  Now,  Mother,  please  don't  get  excited.  Just 
be  calm  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  /  had  to 
do  it!  It  was  this  way:  The  other  day,  after 
school,  the  girls  stopped  in  for  a  minute  to  get  a 
drink;  at  least  that  was  what  they  said  they 
stopped  for.  I  found  out  afterward  that  it 
wasn't.  Lucy  Gates  just  made  it  an  excuse  to  get 
in  here  and  show  Nancy  Dare  the  show  case  and 
the  switches.  I  went  out  to  get  the  water,  and 


Anxious  Days  133 

when  I  came  back  in,  they  were  standing  in  front 
of  that  picture  giggling,  and  I  heard  Lucy  say, 
4  Ain't  it  perfectly  killing?  Wouldn't  you  think 
the  angel'd  be  tired  of  carryin'  that  heavy  child 
up  to  the  throne  of  grace  — '  ' 

"Henrietta!" 

"  I'm  only  tellin'  you  what  she  said,  Mother, 
and  Nancy  said, —  I  stepped  back  behind  the  door 
so  they  couldn't  see  me  —  Nancy  said,  '  Poor  lit- 
tle kid,  to  have  to  live  with  such  awful  things. 
How  does  she  stand  it! '  And  that  made  me  so 
mad  I  could  have  died,  because  I  hate  pity!  It 
made  me  a  lot  madder  than-  what  Lucy  said. 
And  after  they  were  gone  I  kept  on  getting  mad- 
der and  madder.  You  know,  like  you  are  now, 
all  white  and  cold.  I  guess  maybe  I  get  my 
temper  from  you,  for  I  can  see  just  how  you  feel: 
hot  inside,  with  little  squiggles  running  up  and 
down  your  back  and  on  your  arms.  And  I  kept 
getting  so  mad  that  I  knew  I'd  have  to  pound 
Lucy  Gates  or  do  something  to  the  picture,  so  I 
took  it  down  from  off  the  hook,  and  out  to  the 
wood  pile,  and  I  chopped  up  the  frame  with  the 
axe  — " 

Mrs.  Kirby  gave  a  quick  gasp  and  leaned  for- 
ward in  her  chair. 

"  Into  a  million  pieces.  Then  I  took  the  pic- 
ture over  to  Mrs.  McHenry's  and  threw  it  down 
that  old  well  that's  half  full  of  water.  I  did 


134  Only  Henrietta 

it  on  purpose,  because  I  thought  if  she  got  all 
mussed  up  you  wouldn't  ever  fix  her  in  another 
frame,  and  maybe  the  poor  little  child  would 
be  glad,  like  Lucy  said.  She's  been  flyin'  such  a 
terrible  long  time.  It's  made  me  nervous,  too, 
like  that  picture  the  Haswells  have  of  a  baby 
yawnin'.  I  always  want  to  go  up  to  it  and  close 
its  mouth." 

Mrs.  Kirby's  emotions  were  so  mixed  at  this 
point  of  the  story  that  she  could  not  trust  herself 
to  speak,  so  she  merely  looked  at  Henrietta  and 
let  her  ramble  on. 

"  I'm  sorry  if  it  makes  you  feel  bad,  Mother, 
but  maybe  you  won't  mind  when  you  get  used  to 
its  bein'  gone.  I'm  sorry  about  the  paper.  I 
tried  to  clean  it.  Minnie  said  if  I  took  bread- 
crumbs she  didn't  believe  anybody  would  notice 
where  it  was  faded,  but  I'm  afraid  there  was  a 
teeny  bit  of  butter  on  one  of  the  pieces,  for  it 
looks  kind  of  greasy.  Accidents  will  happen! 
I've  heard  you  say  so  yourself.  Only  the 
other  day  the  Lee  twins  were  havin'  a  fuss  at 
lunch  and  Hatty  threw  some  jelly  at  Hotie 
and  it  lit  on  the  wall.  Hatty  said  if  Hotie 
hadn't  dodged  the  way  she  did  it  wouldn't  have 
happened." 

There  was  no  smile  on  Mrs.  Kirby's  face  as 
she  listened.  Her  tranquillity  almost  frightened 
Henrietta.  But  if  the  child  had  only  known, 


Anxious  Days  135 

her  mother  was  scarcely  hearing  a  word  that  she 
was  saying.  A  scrap*  of  Mrs.  Lovell's  conver- 
sation earlier  in  the  day  was  running  through 
her  mind:  "  Let  a  Crosby  once  set  his  mind  to  a 
thing,  and  you  might  as  well  try  to  move  a  moun- 
tain! "  Henrietta  was  merely  proving  her  heri- 
tage. It  was  not  Henrietta  alone  who  had  de- 
fied her,  outraged  every  sense  of  right  and  jus- 
tice :  the  blood  of  her  ancestors  was  stirring  in 
her  veins,  whispering  to  her  will.  Would  she, 
her  mother,  a  frail,  overworked  woman,  have 
the  strength  to  combat  such  a  nature.  Would 
she  have  the  patience  .  .  .  the  wisdom  .  .  . 
the  foresight.  .  .  . 

The  years  ahead  looked  very  dark  to  Etta 
Kirby  at  that  moment.  It  was  not  the  first  time 
that  she  and  Henrietta  had  clashed,  and,  some- 
how, Henrietta  always  seemed  to  come  out 
ahead.  She  was  getting  on  to  young  woman- 
hood now.  Suppose  she  should  some  day  do  as 
her  father  had  done  —  ruin  her  whole  future. 
Suppose  — 

Henrietta's  frightened  tones  brought  Mrs. 
Kirby  back. 

"  Mother,"  the  child  implored,  "  Mother,  are 
you  sick?  Answer  me.  I've  been  asking  you 
for  two  or  three  minutes  and  you  haven't  said  a 
word.  What  is  the  matter?  You  are  so  white, 
so  awful  white!  I  didn't  think  you'd  take  it  this 


136  Only  Henrietta 

way,  Mother.  I'd  have  gone  on  living  with  it 
forever.  Shall  I  get  Mrs.  McHenry?" 

"  No;  just  bring  me  some  water.  Thank  you, 
dear.  I'll  be  better  in  a  moment.  I've  had  a 
trying  day,  but  you  mustn't  bother.  .  .  .  I'm 
afraid  I've  taken  cold.  Fix  up  the  fire,  Henrietta. 
I'll  have  to  lie  down  for  a  few  minutes.  Per- 
haps—  could  you  make  me  a  cup  of  tea?  The 
fire  is  laid.  Just  touch  a  match.  I'm  so  chilly, 
so  — "  The  voice  trailed  off  into  silence. 

Henrietta  lighted  the  fire  and  put  the  kettle 
on  the  stove.  Then  she  slipped  through  the 
gate  that  led  to  Mrs.  McHenry's  back  yard  and 
knocked  at  the  kitchen  door. 

"  Could  you  come  over  to  our  house  for  a 
minute? "  she  said  to  the  motherly  looking 
woman  who  opened  to  her.  "  Something's  the 
matter  with  Mother.  I  think  I  ought  to  get  her 
in  bed,  and  I  can't  alone.  Please  come." 

Mrs.  McHenry  came  willingly.  She  gave 
one  look  at  Mrs.  Kirby's  white  face  and  then 
took  Henrietta  out  in  the  kitchen  and  closed  the 
door. 

"  You  run  right  down  the  street  and  get  that 
new  Doctor  Hughes  that  moved  in  the  old  Gay- 
ford  place,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  know  him,  but 
folks  that's  had  him  say  he's  fine.  Tell  him  to 
come  as  quick  as  ever  he  can.  It's  just  about 
his  supper  time,  he'll  more'n  likely  be  home." 


Anxious  Days  137 

He  was  at  home,  fortunately,  and  came  briskly 
back  up  the  street  with  Henrietta. 

Mrs.  McHenry  had  coaxed  Mrs.  Kirby  into 
the  bedroom  and  made  her  as  comfortable  as 
possible. 

Henrietta  scarcely  knew  how  she  lived  through 
the  next  hour.  Dying  would  have  been  much 
easier,  she  felt  sure. 

Doctor  Hughes  had  given  his  verdict  emphati- 
cally. It  was  a  well  developed  case  of  pneu- 
monia. 

He  looked  around  the  shabby  quarters 
anxiously.  The  woman  would  not  have  half  a 
chance  for  life  in  those  draughty  quarters.  The 
hospital  was  the  only  hope.  She  must  be  moved 
immediately.  He  spoke  to  Henrietta,  who  was 
in  the  kitchen  preparing  the  tea. 

"Will  your  father  be  in  presently?"  he 
asked. 

Henrietta  turned  her  face  away  and  flushed. 

"  I  haven't  any  father,"  she  answered. 

"  Well  —  has  your  mother  the  means  to  go  to 
the  hospital?  Do  you  think  she  could  guaran- 
tee the  first  week's  fee?  It  would  be  twenty- 
five  dollars  for  a  room.  I  can  wait  for  my  — 
that  is,  you  need  not  give  my  services  considera- 
tion — " 

The  terror  in  the  child's  eyes  stopped  him. 

"  Is  she  that  sick?  "  she  asked  solemnly. 


138  Only  Henrietta 

"  She's  very  sick  —  yes,  but  there's  every  hope 
if  we  can  get  her  in  the  right  quarters." 

"  I  could  take  care  of  her  here.  I  wouldn't 
leave  her  for  a  second."  Henrietta's  eyes  were 
warmly  blue  and  tender. 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  you  would  be  faithful;  but 
you  haven't  the  necessary  equipment;  the  con- 


veniences." 


"  I  don't  think  we  have  twenty  dollars  in  the 
world.  We  almost  never  have  that  much,  but 
I'll  look  in  Mother's  purse.  Shall  I  give  her  the 
tea  first?  She  asked  for  it." 

"  No;  not  now." 

She  was  back  in  a  minute  emptying  the  con- 
tents of  a  shabby  black  handbag  on  the  table. 
Two  silver  dollars  rolled  out,  a  small  gold  piece 
and  some  crumpled  papers.  The  doctor  opened 
the  papers  and  his  face  lighted. 

"  There  are  small  checks,"  he  said,  "  but  they 
will  do  as  an  installment."  He  handed  them  to 
Henrietta.  One  was  from  Mrs.  Bradford  for 
five  dollars,  the  other  three-fifty  from  Mrs.  Lov- 
ell. 

"  Somebody  must  have  paid  to-day,"  Henri- 
etta said,  a  note  of  joy  creeping  into  her  worried 
tones.  "  Let's  see,  five,  and  three  and  a  half 
and  two  —  that's  ten  and  a  half,  and  five  is  fifteen 
and  a  half,  and  oh,  wait  a  minute.  I  have  some 
more!  " 


Anxious  Days  139 

She  went  into  the  bedroom  and  searched  in  her 
bureau  drawer  for  a  minute.  When  she  came 
back  a  ten-dollar  gold  piece  shone  in  her  hand. 

"  There,"  she  said  handing  it  to  the  doctor. 
"  I  just  remembered.  It  was  left  from  a  present 
I  got  once.  I  never  could  make  up  my  mind  to 
spend  it  'cause  I  —  I  hated  the  person  that  sent 
it.  But  I'm  glad  to  use  it  this  way.  I'm  glad 
because  —  because  it  ought  to  go  to  help 
Mother.  It's  hers  more  than  mine,  only  she 
never  would  use  it." 

The  doctor  took  the  money  almost  hesitatingly, 
but  hospitals  could  not  operate  without  funds  — 
he  knew  that. 

He  glanced  again  at  the  child's  face.  It 
seemed  to  hold  him.  Her  eyes  had  glowed  with 
tenderness  when  she  spoke  of  her  mother;  flashed 
with  scorn  when  she  held  out  the  gold.  It  was  a 
face  that  an  artist  would  find  difficult  to  put  on 
canvas.  It  was  too  mobile,  too  temperamental. 
Genius  could  not  catch  the  sincerity,  the  subtle 
charm  that  lay  beneath  the  fire  and  spirit.  And 
he  had  never  witnessed  such  naivete,  such  unaf- 
fected simplicity.  Her  likes  and  dislikes  were 
paraded  with  equal  candor. 

The  week  that  followed  was  a  perpetual  night- 
mare to  Henrietta.  She  scarcely  knew  what  she 
should  have  done  if  Mr.  Haswell  and  Minnie 
had  not  been  so  kind  to  her.  They  had  taken 


140  Only  Henrietta 

her  home  with  them  and  insisted  upon  keeping 
her  as  long  as  her  mother  was  in  the  hospital. 

She  had  seen  her  mother  only  once.  The  Doc- 
tor had  given  strict  orders  to  keep  every  one  out 
of  the  room,  but  she  had  tiptoed  along  the  highly 
polished  floor  of  the  long  hall  in  his  wake  one 
morning,  and  he  had  allowed  her  the  merest  peep 
at  the  patient. 

She  would  never  have  recognized  her  mother, 
save  for  the  black  glossy  hair  which  had  been 
drawn  in  two  loose  braids  over  her  shoulders. 
She  lay  so  white  and  still  that  Henrietta  thought 
she  must  be  dead,  and  ran  down  the  hall  weeping 
bitterly. 

The  nurse  hastened  after  her. 

"  You  mustn't  be  discouraged,"  she  said,  put- 
ting her  arms  around  the  sobbing  child.  '  The 
doctor  is  very  hopeful.  She  seems  much  easier. 
The  pain  is  not  nearly  so  bad." 

Henrietta  threw  her  arms  around  the  shoulders 
in  the  pretty  blue  uniform  and  hugged  ecstatic- 
ally. 

"Oh,  thank  you  for  saying  that!"  she  cried, 
gripping  tighter.  "  It's  the  very  first  gleam  of 
hope  anybody  has  given  me  but  Minnie  Haswell's 
Aunt  Amelia.  When  may  I  see  Mother?" 

"  To-morrow,  perhaps." 

"  Are  you  her  nurse  —  the  one  that  stays  by 
her  all  the  time?  " 


Anxious  Days  141 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  the  Doctor  tell  you  —  I  don't  know  just 
how  we're  going  to  pay  you.  You  may  have  to 
wait  a  little  for  your  money;  like  Mother  does 
for  hers." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  that." 

"  And  —  I  want  to  ask  you  something.  Has 
she  — "  she  nodded  toward  the  room  at  the  end 
of  the  hall — "  been  out  of  her  head,  any?  " 

"  You  mean  delirious?  " 

"  Yes;  has  she  talked  much?  " 

"  Some." 

"  Did  she  say  anything  about  a  picture  —  a 
picture  that  got  drowned  in  a  well?  It  was 
something  she  thought  so  much  of  and  —  some- 
thing happened  to  it.  It's  worried  me  —  aw- 
fully. I  didn't  want  her  to  think  about  it.  You 
don't  know  anybody,  do  you,  that's  got  a  picture 
of  an  angel  carrying  a  child  up  to  heaven?  I'd 
give  most  anything  if  I  could  get  one  to  put  up 
over  our  mantel  before  she  gets  home.  It  would 
be  so  much  company  while  she's  getting  strong. 
Maybe  I  could  do  something  to  help  pay  for  it, — 
like  doing  nails  or  brushing  hair.  I  know  how 
from  seeing  Mother.  That's  her  business,  you 
know." 

"  I  don't  believe  I've  ever  seen  such  a  picture." 

"Haven't  you?  Maybe  you  wouldn't  care 
for  it.  Some  people  don't.  But  she  did." 


142  Only  Henrietta 

It  was  nearly  a  week  later  that  Henrietta  was 
admitted  to  her  mother's  presence.  She  found 
her  looking  so  much  better  that  her  heart  gave  a 
bound  of  joy.  She  was  still  very  white,  and  the 
thick  black  braids  over  her  shoulder  accentuated 
the  whiteness,  but  she  smiled  at  Henrietta  and 
clasped  her  hand. 

The  room  was  full  of  fragrance  and  Henri- 
etta gazed  about  wonderingly. 

"Aren't  the  roses  beautiful?  "  the  nurse  asked. 
"  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  look  over  the  cards  and 
see  who  sent  them." 

Henrietta  took  the  bits  of  pasteboard  in  her 
hands  and  read,  "  Mrs.  Hiram  Holt  Lovell; 
Mrs.  Everett  Deem  Bradford;  Mrs.  Wendover 
Payne;  Mrs.  Ledyard  Boyd  Olcott."  Then  she 
tried  to  fit  the  flowers  to  the  cards.  Miss  Will- 
ard  came  to  her  assistance. 

"  The  red  roses  are  from  Mrs.  Lovell,"  she 
said.  "  They  are  the  second  lot  she  has  sent." 

"  And  they're  so  terrible  expensive  this  time  of 
the  year,  aren't  they,  Miss  Willard?  Why  is 
it  rich  people  always  have  such  beautiful  names; 
so  stylish  sounding?  Don't  you  just  love  Mrs. 
Ledyard  Boyd  Olcott!  and  Mrs.  Wendover 
Payne!  It's  too  bad  she  isn't  as  handsome  as 
her  name,  but  you  can't  have  everything,  I 
'spose." 

"  Dearest!  "  came  from  the  bed  in  feeble  re- 


Anxious  Days  143 

monstrance,  and  Henrietta  buried  her  face  be- 
side her  mother's.  When  she  looked  up  it  was 
a  little  flushed. 

There  was  a  delightful  ten  minutes'  visit  after 
that.  Henrietta's  diary  gives  a  fairly  good  idea 
of  her  impressions. 

"  November  the  fifth. 

"  I  had  a  beautiful  time  with  mother  at  the 
Hospital  this  morning,  only  I  had  to  do  most  of 
the  conversing  as  she  is  still  pretty  weak.  She 
looked  so  lovely  lying  there.  Her  eyes  are  so 
pretty  and  gentle,  and  her  skin,  owing  to  the 
cream,  is  wonderful  in  teckture.  I  don't  see  how 
my  father  could  have  bared  to  leave  her.  She 
has  a  perfectly  wonderful  doctor  and  nurse. 
The  doctor  is  not  an  old  man,  but  he  knows  a  lot. 
Miss  Willard  isn't  pretty,  but  she  makes  me 
think  of  that  saying,  '  Pretty  is  as  pretty  does.' 
She's  always  in  a  good  humor,  and  she  uses  nice 
language.  I'm  sure  Mrs.  Lovell  would  think  so. 
Mrs.  Lovell  has  been  so  good  to  Mother,  send- 
ing her  elegant  flowers.  So  have  a  lot  of  other 
people,  mostly  customers.  I  bet  —  I  mean  I 
believe  that  Mrs.  Gates  wouldn't  have  half  so 
many  if  she  was  sick,  even  if  she  does  live  in  a 
big  house  and  is  trying  to  get  into  society.  Mr. 
Haswell  and  Minnie  have  been  wonderful  to  me. 
So  has  Minnie's  aunt.  She  ripped  up  my  red 
serge  dress  and  turned  it  and  put  on  such  pretty 


144  Only  Henrietta 

new  cuffs  and  collar.  I'm  very  grateful  to  her, 
only  I  did  hope  it  would  wear  out  and  I  might 
get  a  new  one.  Oh,  dear,  I  do  wish  I  could  just 
once  have  a  perfectly  new  dress.  The  red  serge 
is  one  Mary  Helen  Bradford  had.  I  don't  care 
if  the  material  is  perfectly  wonderful  and  I  look 
good  in  red.  I'm  so  afraid  somebody  will  notice 
that  the  cuffs  and  collar  are  just  like  some  Min- 
nie has  on  her  dress.  Not  that  I  mind  being  like 
Minnie,  only  Lucy  Gates  will  be  sure  to  ask  if 
the  goods  was  given  to  me.  She  always  does. 

"  I  am  getting  on  with  my  lessons  at  Mrs.  Lov- 
ell's  just  fine.  We  read  for  an  hour  every  Sat- 
urday. Sometimes  I  stay  two  hours  and  for 
dinner.  I  put  new  words  in  sentences  and  save 
up  all  the  slips  I  hear  in  English  to  report  to  her. 
I  never  say  any  of  the  old  things  I  used  to  say, 
and  I  try  to  get  wonderful  new  words  to  clothe 
my  thoughts.  She  says  that  my  voice  is  very 
much  lower  and  well  modalated.  She  says  you 
can  always  tell  a  lady  by  her  voice  and  the  key 
she  speaks  in." 

"  November  I5th. 

"  Mother  is  improving  very  fast  now  and  the 
doctor  thinks  she  can  come  home  in  a  few  days, 
but  I  will  have  to  stay  home  from  school  and 
keep  the  house  warm  for  her." 

"  November  I7th. 
"  The   most   wonderful   thing   has   happened. 


Anxious  Days  145 

Mrs.  Lovell  took  Mother  to  her  house  to  stay 
until  she  is  strong  enough  to  come  home.  She 
has  the  dearest  little  room  all  in  rose  color  with 
a  private  bath  off  from  it.  I  guess  Mother  never 
dreamed  she  would  ever  be  in  such  a  wonderful 
place.  Mrs.  Lovell  is  a  perfect  angel  to  every- 
body. Mother  told  me  to-day  that  Mrs.  Lov- 
ell paid  the  hospital  bill,  too,  and  said  she  could 
work  it  out  for  her  later.  It  does  seem  as  if  the 
good  Lord  raises  up  friends  in  time  of  trouble 
like  Minnie's  aunt  says.  I  must  keep  on  with 
my  Sunday  School,  though  I'm  not  a  bit  more 
crazy  about  it.  It  would  seem  ungrateful  to 
quit  now." 

"  November  2Oth. 

"  Mother  came  home  to-day  and  it  does  seem 
so  good  to  have  her.  She  looks  very  pale  and 
she  has  a  little  cough,  but  she  says  she  is  fine 
and  can  hardly  wait  to  get  back  to  her  work. 
The  doctor  came  to  see  her  to-day.  He  says  he 
lives  so  close  that  he's  not  going  to  lose  track  of 
us.  He  lives  with  his  Mother  in  the  old  Gay- 
ford  house.  They've  fixed  it  all  up." 

"  November  22nd. 

'  We  are  going  to  have  the  play  next  Satur- 
day evening.  I  have  my  part  fine.  Aunt 
Amelia  has  helped  me  with  my  costume:  it's  red 
cheese  cloth  with  a  lot  of  gilt  on  it.  I  also  have 


146  Only  Henrietta 

a  long  red  robe  with  pieces  of  cotton  on  it  to 
look  like  ermine.  The  robe  is  really  a  bath 
wrap  that  belongs  to  Mr.  Haswell,  but  it  looks 
just  fine  all  fixed  up,  and  he  said  we  could  do 
what  ever  we  wanted  to  with  it.  I  wear  a  crown 
of  gilt  also  with  gold  stars.  It's  beautiful.  I 
believe  I  look  pretty  nice  in  it.  Nancy  Dare  says 
she  can't  take  her  eyes  off  of  me." 

"  November  25th. 

"  We  are  so  busy  getting  things  ready  for  the 
play  that  I  can't  write  much.  The  attic  looks 
lovely  and  Mr.  Gates  had  a  little  stage  put  in 
one  end  for  us.  We  had  an  awful  time  getting 
long  enough  curtains  to  hang  up  in  front  of  it 
and  they  don't  match  very  well,  some  are  red  and 
some  are  green  but  they  will  be  open  most  of  the 
time.  The  characters  are  Fatima,  Blue  Beard's 
wife,  that's  me.  Sister  Anne  —  Hotie  Lee; 
Blue  Beard,  Hatty  Lee  (the  part  just  suits  her) . 
First  brother,  Minnie —  (they  cut  out  the  page) 
—  and  Second  brother,  Lucy  Gates.  The  broth- 
ers don't  have  much  to  do;  just  to  stay  Blue 
Beard's  murderous  hand  and  pierce  him  through 
the  heart.  Between  the  curtains  when  there  is 
some  changing  of  costumes,  little  Nellie  Sloane 
is  going  to  dance  a  dance  over  some  crossed 
swords.  She  does  it  fine.  My  part  works  up  to 
a  terrible  climax.  I  simply  love  it.  It  goes  like 
this:  Blue  Beard  says, 


Anxious  Days  147 

"  '  Now,  if  you  please, 
I'll  take  my  keys, 
And  so  my  thanks  you've  earned. 
Ha!  what  do  I  see 

Upon  this  key? 
Ber-lood !     Ber-lood ! 
Ha!  death  to  thee! 
Ber-lood !     Ber-lood ! 

Prepare  to  die ! ' ' 

"  Then  I  kneel  to  him  and  say: 

"  '  You  horridest  of  brutes, 
You  savagest  of  bears! 
Just  give  me  time  to  say  my  prayers! 

"  Here  I  weep  and  wail!  Dr.  Hughes  and  his 
mother  are  coming.  They  bought  some  tickets. 
Perhaps  Mrs.  Lovell,  too.  She  said  she'd  try. 
The  tickets  are  very  cheap,  only  ten  cents.  The 
play  is  worth  a  lot  more  but  so  many  can't  af- 
ford to  pay  the  price." 

"P.  S. 

"  Miss  Ellwell  has  been  a  lot  nicer ,  to  me 
lately.  I  guess  she  knows  Mother  has  been  aw- 
ful sick  and  feels  sorry.  She's  still  pretty  mean 
to  Van  Dyne.  To-day  she  told  him  in  fourth 
period  to  '  please  rise  and  stay  risen'  I  didn't 
think  it  sounded  very  nice.  Kind  of  Bible-ly  or 
something.  Maby  I  mean  sackreligious." 


CHAPTER  X 

A  WINSOME  STAR 

SATURDAY  was  a  busy  day  in  Henrietta's 
neighborhood.  The  excitement  began  early  in 
the  morning.  There  was  a  swift  scurrying  of 
feet  from  one  house  to  the  other.  Arms  were 
laden  with  stage  properties,  household  furniture, 
costumes  —  even  rugs.  Mrs.  Lee,  after  much 
persuasion,  had  consented  to  let  Hatty  take  her 
one  cherished  Oriental  for  Blue  Beard's  wife  to 
recline  upon  in  splendor,  and  Nancy  Dare  had 
furnished  another. 

"  The  scene  must  be  gorgeous,"  Nancy  reiter- 
ated over  a'nd  over  again.  "  It's  in  a  Turkish 
harem  where  everything  is  beautiful.  It'll  spoil 
the  whole  thing  if  the  stage  setting  isn't  just 
right!" 

Nancy  had  visited  her  mother's  attic  and 
brought  forth  a  handsome  black  velvet  basque 
with  draped  paniers,  and  a  crimson  velvet  cape 
which  she  bestowed  upon  the  "  Second  Brother  " 
Lucy  Gates.  Lucy  completed  the  costume  with 
a  pair  of  gymnasium  bloomers,  a  much  plumed 
hat  and  Turkish  slippers. 

Minnie's  rather  delicate  blond  beauty  was  en- 

148 


A  Winsome  Star  149 

hanced  by  a  short  red  silk  jacket  with  crystal 
fringe ;  a  white  embroidered  blouse  that  had  been 
secured  from  Aunt  Amelia  —  (a  trifle  under  pro- 
test) —  white  bloomers,  white  hose,  Turkish  slip- 
pers and  a  red  fez. 

But  it  was  Blue  Beard's  stunning  costume  upon 
which  Nancy  staked  her  professional  reputation. 
She  had  lain  awake  nights  planning  it.  The 
bloomers  were  white.  Nancy  would  have  given 
half  her  life  to  have  secured  blue  silk  ones,  but 
that  was  impossible.  She  had  found,  however, 
a  gorgeous  red  silk  kimono.  This  was  draped 
high  at  the  waist  with  a  crimson  cord  (stealthily 
removed  from  one  of  Mrs.  Gates'  best  sofa  cush- 
ions) and  from  beneath  the  shimmering  folds 
a  wicked  sword  clanked  ominously.  Especially 
when  Blue  Beard  took  one  of  his  long,  up  stage 
strides. 

But  the  crowning  point  of  the  entire  costume, 
the  piece  de  resistance,  so  to  speak,  was  the  cape. 
Henrietta  had  secured  that;  she  had  seen  Mrs. 
Lovell  wearing  it  one  stormy  afternoon  and  a 
vision  of  its  elegance  had  lived  with  her  ever 
after. 

She  hated  to  ask  if  she  might  take  it,  but  when 
Nancy  paraded  her  pile  of  borrowed  finery,  it 
seemed  only  fair.  Besides,  Mrs.  Lovell  had 
asked  if  there  was  anything  she  could  do  to  help. 

The  cape  was  long  and  black,  not  much  to 


150  Only  Henrietta 

speak  of  on  the  outside,  but  underneath  —  Hen- 
rietta could  never  understand  why  Mrs.  Lovell 
wore  the  black  side  out  —  was  the  softest,  most 
adorable  gray  fur  that  verged  to  white.  Turned 
wrong  side  out  on  Blue  Beard  it  would  be  simply 
grand.  When  Henrietta  mentioned  the  fact, 
Nancy  went  straight  over  and  kissed  her  —  it 
took  such  a  weight  off  her  mind. 

"  Why,  of  course !  I'm  not  real  sure  that 
they  wear  furs  in  Turkey  where  it  is  so  warm, 
but  it  will  look  stunning.  We  can  drape  it  back 
a  little,"  she  said,  "  and  with  a  big.hat  almost  all 
plumes,  the  sword  and  gauntlet  gloves  she  — 
well,  I  just  haven't  words  to  express  how  per- 
fectly lovely  she'll  be !  And  Hatty  does  the  part 
so  well.  I'm  so  proud  of  her.  She's  so  —  so  — 
naturally  so  —  not  domineering  exactly,  but,  you 
know,  kind  of  —  of  forceful — " 

This  rather  doubtful  compliment  almost  pre- 
cipitated a  strike  on  the  part  of  the  leading  man 
of  the  company,  but  Nancy  qualified  by  saying 
that  forceful  people  were  so  admired.  You 
could  always  tell  how  fine  they  were  by  their  high 
foreheads  and  splendid  chins  —  just  like  Hatty's, 
exactly. 

Henrietta's  costume  had  been  changed  at  the 
eleventh  hour.  The  bath  wrap,  for  all  Mr.  Has- 
well  had  been  so  kind  about  lending  it,  and  they 
hated  to  hurt  his  feelings,  seemed  hardly  fitting. 


A  Winsome  Star  151 

Mrs.  Lovell  had  come  to  the  rescue  in  that,  too. 
She  had  procured  from  among  her  treasures  a 
brilliant  red  satin  skirt,  a  loose,  filmy  yellow  bod- 
ice, an  old  fashioned  chain  belt.  Besides  these, 
she  had  contributed  two  exquisite  scarfs;  one  was 
to  encircle  Henrietta's  head,  the  other  to  be 
wound  about  her  waist  and  skirt. 

"  Henrietta's  so  beautiful  when  she  gets 
dressed  up  in  her  things  that  she  just  takes  my 
breath  away,"  Nancy  confided  to  Minnie  at  the 
dress  rehearsal. 

"  She  does  mine,  too,"  Minnie  affirmed  readily. 
"  I  think  she's  the  prettiest  girl- in  the  high  school 
anyway." 

"Sometimes  /  think  that  —  and  then  I  don't. 
When  she's  happy  and  her  face  lights  up  and 
her  eyes  change  from  blue  to  black,  she's  wonder- 
ful! And  isn't  it  funny:  Mother  says  Henrietta 
has  class.  Her  hands  and  feet  are  as  aristo- 
cratic, so  slender  and  pretty,  and  — " 

"Why  shouldn't  she  have  class?  Her  moth- 
er's a  lady,  even  if  she  does  fix  folks'  hair  and 
nails,  she — " 

"  Yes,  I  know.  I  like  her,  too,  and  she's 
pretty,  if  she  wasn't  so  thin.  Mother  says  she 
thinks  the  father  must  have  been  —  well,  maybe 
from  a  fine  family  or  something.  Henrietta  has 
so  many  things  about  her  that  are  different. 
Haven't  you  noticed  it?  " 


152  Only  Henrietta 

"  I've  noticed  how  truthful  she  is.  Henri- 
etta couldn't  tell  a  lie  to  save  her.  She  made 
Lucy  Gates  furious  because  she  wrote  what  she 
thought  of  her  in  that  old  book  Lucy  brought  to 
school.  The  rest  of  us  wrote  nice  things  — 
things  we  didn't  mean.  Every  one  of  us.  I  did 
myself.  I  didn't  want  to  hurt  her  feelings." 

"  I  don't  think  Henrietta  should  have,  either." 

The  entrance  of  Lucy  Gates  at  that  minute  cut 
the  argument  short. 

As  Saturday  evening  came  on,  the  cast  drew  a 
breath  of  relief.  The  attic  had  been  turned  into 
a  hall.  Chairs,  ten  rows  deep,  filled  the  audi- 
torium and  the  stage  was  rich  in  Oriental 
splendor. 

"  Seems  to  me  we've  thought  of  everything," 
Nancy  said  as  she  glanced  around.  "  I  do  hope 
everybody  will  do  well.  Now,  just  a  last  word. 
Don't  anybody  forget  her  lines !  Study  them  be- 
tween now  and  eight  o'clock.  Don't  forget  any 
of  your  properties,  and  Henrietta,  be  sure  you 
don't  stumble  when  you  rise  from  off  the  couch. 
It  makes  you  look  so  awkward.  Remember  to 
lift  up  your  skirt  a  little  first,  before  you  begin  to 
get  up.  Brothers!  Now,  listen  please,  for 
this  is  very  important.  Don't  forget  to  run  in 
quickly  when  Blue  Beard  begins  to  slay  Henri- 
etta. He  can't  go  on  saying,  '  Oh,  wretched 
woman,  breathe  thy  last,'  forever.  It's  too  un- 


A  Winsome  Star  153 

natural.  Get  on  the  job  quickly.  Your  cue  is, 
'  They  come,  they  come,  the  rescue  band! ' 
Does  everybody  understand?" 

Everybody  did. 

But  though  everybody  understood,  everybody 
was  a  little  nervous.  So  many  people  were 
coming.  The  entire  attic  floor  had  been  sold 
out. 

"  I'm  terribly  nervous,"  Henrietta  confided  to 
Minnie  as  they  crossed  the  street  to  supper. 
"  My  hands  are  like  ice,  and  my  face  is  hot  as 
anything." 

"  They  say  that's  the  way  all  great  actresses 
get,"  Minnie  comforted.  "  I  was  reading  about 
it  only  the  other  day  in  the  Journal.  They  say 
the  worse  you  are  —  nervous,  you  know,  the  bet- 
ter you'll  do.  It's  what  they  call  — 'temper- 
ment.'  " 

"Do  they?  Well,  I'm  glad  I've  got  it;  but 
its  very  uncomfortable.  Do  they  always  feel 
like  they're  going  to  forget  their  lines,  too? 
Last  night  I  dreamed  that  I  was  out  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  stage  trying  to  rub  the  blood  off  the 
key,  with  only  part  of  my  costume  on,  and  I 
couldn't  think  of  a  thing  to  say  except  '  Hurry, 
Sister  Anne,'  and  I  kept  saying  that  over  and 
over  till  everybody  laughed." 

"  Oh,  you  won't  forget.  Dreams  always  go 
by  contrary !  " 


154  Only  Henrietta 

Henrietta  turned  in  her  own  gate  and  waved 
good-by  to  her  reassuring  friend. 

"  Don't  be  late,"  she  called  after  her.  "  Be 
sure  to  bring  some  old  pieces  of  linen  for  the 
make-up.  I'll  tend  to  the  cold  cream  and  face 
powder." 

Some  time  before  the  appointed  hour  the  front 
seats  in  Mrs.  Gates'  attic  were  comfortably  filled, 
and  by  ten  minutes  to  eight  every  chair  was  oc- 
cupied. 

Mrs.  Price  and  Mrs.  McHenry  sat  in  the 
front  row,  comfortable  and  expectant.  Dr. 
Hughes  and  his  mother  were  in  full  view  of  the 
stage.  Children  abounded. 

"  It's  a  perfectly  beautiful  audience,"  Nancy 
said,  taking  a  peek  through  the  green  and  red 
curtains.  "  Beau-ti-ful!  And,  oh,  Henrietta, 
there's  your  Mrs.  Lovell.  She's  just  coming  in." 

Henrietta  took  a  peep  breathlessly. 

"So  it  is!  Wasn't  it  dear  of  her  to  come? 
But  I  almost  wish  she  hadn't.  I'm  afraid  I  won't 
do  so  well.  She  scares  me  just  a  little." 

'  You  won't  know  she's  there  when  you  begin, 
Henrietta.  Don't  get  nervous.  My,  look  at 
Mrs.  Gates!  You'd  think  Mrs.  Lovell  was  the 
queen  of  Sheba  coming  in." 

Mrs.  Gates  was  feeling  the  importance  of  hav- 
ing a  well-known  society  woman  in  her  house. 
She  almost  fell  over  Tommy  Price  in  her  en- 


A  Winsome  Star  155 

deavor  to  get  to  Mrs.  Lovell  and  offer  her  a 
front  seat.  Henrietta,  behind  the  curtain, 
caught  a  scrap  of  her  conversation: 

"  We're  so  charmed  to  have  you  here  to-night, 
Mrs.  Lovell,  though  I  can't  promise  much  for 
the  entertainment.  Merely  a,  children's  affair. 
They  must  have  amusement,  you  know.  Lucy, 
my  daughter,  has  the  theatrical  fever.  I  sup- 
pose it's  natural.  There's  a  certain  age  when  it 
comes  on  like  the  chicken  pox  or  the  mumps. 
You  have  no  children,  I  believe?  You  are 
spared  a  great  responsibility.  Do  sit  here,  Mrs. 
Lovell.  I'm  sorry  the  first  visit  to  my  house 
should  have  been  to  the  attic.  .  .  ." 

Mrs.  Lovell  turned  from  Mrs.  Gates  to  speak 
with  Mrs.  Kirby,  who  was  not  very  strong  yet; 
but  her  face  was  animated,  and  the  color  in  her 
cheeks  made  her  look  young  and  pretty. 

The  first  strains  from  the  orchestra  —  two 
guitars  and  a  banjo  —  put  Henrietta  in  a  flutter. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  can  ever  do  it  or 
not,"  she  said  to  Minnie. 

"  Of  course  you  can.  I'd  bank  on  you,  Hen- 
rietta. You  look  too  lovely  for  anything." 

And  so  the  audience  thought  a  few  minutes 
later  when  the  curtains  parted.  In  fact,  it  held 
its  breath,  and  sat  up  straighter  in  the  dining- 
room  chairs. 

Fatima  reposed  on  a  low  couch  to  the  right 


156  Only  Henrietta 

of  the  stage.  A  soft  yellow  light  from  a  tall 
piano  lamp  threw  a  pleasant  glow  over  her,  and 
a  small  page,  blackened  to  represent  a  slave, 
fanned  her  with  peacock  feathers. 

There  was  a  deathly  stillness  as  Henrietta 
rose,  languidly  blowing  the  smoke  from  a  ciga- 
rette which  she  held  daintily  between  her  fingers. 
Slowly  she  moved  forward  to  take  the  keys  from 
her  lord,  prior  to  his  leaving  the  castle. 

With  the  utterance  of  her  first  lines,  Mrs.  Lov- 
ell  gave  a  start,  then  leaned  forward  eagerly. 
The  tones  were  low  and  clear,  each  vowel  prop- 
erly accented  —  exaggerated  perhaps,  but  the 
effect  was  magical.  Blue  Beard's  voice  seemed 
harsh,  strident,  in  contrast. 

Mrs.  Kirby  leaned  forward  also,  but  her  gaze 
was  directed  toward  the  cigarette.  Again  Hen- 
rietta had  dared!  Would  she  always  go  on,  tak- 
ing things  in  her  own  hands? 

"  Henrietta  didn't  tell  me  that  she  was  going 
to  do  that,"  she  whispered  to  Mrs.  Lovell,  the 
color  deepening  in  her  face.  "  I  should  not  have 
allowed  it." 

"  But  we  are  not  looking  at  Henrietta,"  Mrs. 
Lovell  whispered  back.  "  We  are  viewing  Blue 
Beard's  wife  in  a  Turkish  harem.  You  must 
admit  there  is  a  difference." 

It  was  true.  Henrietta  Kirby  had  dropped 
her  own  personality  as  easily  as  she  would  have 


A  Winsome  Star  157 

stepped  out  of  Mary  Helen  Bradford's  red  serge 
dress.  The  divine  spark  that  Mr.  Haswell  had 
glimpsed  when  she  listened  breathlessly  to  his 
description  of  a  sunrise  was  aglow  again. 

But  there  was  something  besides  ability  that 
held  Mrs.  Lovell.  It  was  Henrietta's  beauty. 
Strange  that  she  had  never  thought  her  beautiful 
before,  though  she  had  always  recognized  possi- 
bilities. Perhaps  she  had  thought  the  face  too 
thin,  the  mouth  a  trifle  wide;  but  the  eyes 
and  brow  were  superb !  How  that  yellow  scarf 
wound  carelessly  about  her  head  brought  out  the 
beauty  of  her  black  hair,  the  whiteness  of  her 
skin! 

And  how  real  her  part  was  to  her.  She  had 
forgotten  her  audience  completely.  There  was 
not  a  hint  of  self-consciousness;  not  a  trace  of 
nervousness.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  she  had 
leaped  from  little  ordinary  "  only  Henrietta 
Kirby  "  to  a  grand  dame. 

Something  in  her  fire  and  spirit  took  Mrs.  Lov- 
ell back  to  her  own  school  days,  when  she  had 
played  the  leads  with  Henry  Crosby  in  the  old 
Dramatic  League.  How  Henry  had  played  up 
to  her! 

For  just  a  minute,  despite  Henrietta's  charms, 
her  mind  drifted.  She  wondered  what  had  be- 
come of  Henry.  Her  talk  with  Mrs.  Kirby  a 
few  weeks  back  had  stirred  old  memories.  She 


158  Only  Henrietta 

had  written  to  Isabel  Summers  to  see  if  anything 
had  ever  been  heard  of  him.  Perhaps  he  had 
gone  on  the  stage.  .  .  .  He  was  gifted. 

Something  in  Henrietta's  expression  at  that 
moment  brought  her  back  with  a  start.  What 
was  it  about  the  child  that  was  so  familiar? 
Where  had  she  seen  that  smile  before?  It  was 
insinuating  —  haunting.  There  was  a  trick  of 
the  hands,  too.  A  little  sidewise  shifting  of  the 
head.  A  turn  of  the  profile.  Oh,  it  was  mad- 
dening! It  seemed  as  if  the  next  moment  the 
other  face  must  confront  her ! 

"  Henrietta  reminds  me  of  some  one.  I've  no- 
ticed it  several  times  lately,  but  never  so  much  as 
to-night,"  she  whispered  to  Mrs.  Kirby  at  the 
end  of  the  first  scene.  "  It's  so  puzzling.  I 
can't  for  the  life  of  me  think  who  it  is.  I  shall 
lie  awake  half  the  night  trying  to  figure  it  out. 
I'm  not  quick  to  see  resemblances  ordinarily,  but 
this  is  so  apparent  —  yet  so  illusive." 

"There!  "  she  said  again  when  Henrietta  be- 
gan her  lines  — "  it  is  something  about  her 
mouth  —  the  way  the  lips  turn  up  at  the  corners. 
It  gives  her  such  a  merry,  rougish  expression. 
Where,  oh,  where  have  I  seen  it  before !  " 

Mrs.  Kirby  shrank  back  a  little  in  her  chair. 
So  it  was  coming  at  last?  Well —  If  the  dis- 
covery worked  a  hardship  on  Henrietta  she  was 
not  to  blame.  She  had  done  her  best.  She  was 


A  Winsome  Star  159 

not  surprised  that  Mrs.  Lovell  was  tracing  out 
Henrietta's  identity.  The  resemblance  to  her 
father  had  almost  taken  her  own  breath  away 
to-night,  stabbed  at  her  heart  —  made  it  cry  out 
with  pain  and  longing.  .  .  .  How  she  had  loved 
him  —  that  sunny  smile  —  Henrietta's  smile. 
What  memories  it  brought.  Henry  Crosby  was 
ever  in  her  thoughts.  Sometimes  she  could  feel 
his  loving  hands  upon  her,  sweet  with  caresses. 
Why  had  he  left  her?  —  his  little  lady —  Did 
he  remember  the  rides  through  spreading  elms, 
silvery  in  the  moonlight  —  the  blueness  of  the 
lake  as  they  watched  it,  hand  in  hand? 

'  Your  little  lady  quite  distinguished  herself, 
Mrs.  Kirby.  Congratulations." 

Dr.  Hughes  standing  beside  her  with  his  hand 
outstretched  brought  her  to  her  feet,  confused. 
Her  little  lady!  How  strange  that  he  should 
have  used  that  expression! 

'Yes  —  she  did  very  well,  Doctor  —  I  think. 
All  but  the  cigarette.  I  didn't  like  that.  I'm 
sorry  — " 

"  She  seemed  expert,  too."  The  doctor's 
kindly  eyes  twinkled.  "  Here  she  comes.  Let's 
make  her  give  an  account  of  herself.  Look 
here,  young  woman,  where  did  you  learn  to  han- 
dle a  cigarette?  Come,  confess  to  your  mother." 

"  I'm  sure  Henrietta  never  did  such  a  thing 
before,  Doctor  Hughes  —  never." 


160  Only  Henrietta 

"  Oh,  yes  I  have,  Mother.  We  got  them  at 
school  one  day  and  went  over  to  Holmes  pond 
and  lit  them  up  —  the  whole  cast.  But  mine 
made  me  sick  and  I  didn't  like  it.  We  just  did  it 
for  a  lark." 

"  I  hope  you'll  never  do  it  again,  Henrietta." 

"  Oh,  I  won't,  don't  worry.  It's  no  fun  doing 
the  same  bad  thing  all  the  time!  " 

Doctor  Hughes  laughed.  Henrietta  always 
delighted  him.  Her  presence  was  as  invigorat- 
ing as  a  Colorado  zephyr. 

"  Where  do  you  get  this  histrionic  ability?  "  he 
asked. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!  Where  do  I  Mother? 
Did  you  ever  act?  " 

"  No,  dear." 

"  Did  my  fath  — "  Henrietta  checked  her- 
self suddenly.  u  Wasn't  it  too  bad,"  she  substi- 
tuted hastily — "that  the  Brothers  forgot  their 
cue  and  left  Blue  Beard  stabbing  me  for 
so  long?  It  was  terribly  awkward.  I  just  had 
to  back  off  that  way  and  whisper  to  them  to 
come  on.  Nancy  said  it  spoiled  the  whole  thing. 
She's  so  mad  at  Lucy!  They  got  to  talking 
and  forgot.  Why,  Blue  Beard  had  to  say, 
4  Come,  stripling,  come  and  meet  thy  fate !  I'll 
cut  thy  throat  and  crack  thy  pate,'  over  four 
times.  It  was  so  embarrassing.  You  must  have 
noticed  it." 


A  Winsome  Star  161 

"  I  think  you  can  rest  on  your  laurels,"  Doctor 
Hughes  reassured  her. 

Henrietta  thanked  him  and  went  over  to  speak 
with  Mrs.  Lovell.  Mrs.  Kirby  watched  her 
proudly. 

"  Some  little  girl,  that,"  the  Doctor  continued. 
"Going  to  let  her  follow  up  the  profession?" 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  Henrietta  is  very 
young.  It's  too  soon  to  say." 

"Don't!"  he  said,  coming  a  step  nearer. 
"  Not  for  all  the  talent  in  the  world!  " 

Mrs.  Kirby's  eyes  were  troubled  as  she 
answered,  "  I'm  wondering  if  just  '  don't,'  or 
'  you  must  not! '  would  have  any  effect  on  Hen- 
rietta. She  inherits  a  very  strong  will." 

'  Turned  in  the  right  channel  it  will  be  a  power 
for  good.  Keep  a  firm  hand  on  her  until  she's 
eighteen  —  and  then  — " 

"And  then?"  Etta  Kirby's  voice  was  expect- 
ant. 

"  Half  the  battle's  won.  It's  the  adolescent 
period  that's  dangerous.  Girls  at  thirteen  al- 
ways know  more  than  their  mothers." 

'  Yes,  that's  true,  but  —  I  wonder  if  you 
realize  how  hard  it  is  to  combat  a  strong  will  — 
to  fight  single-handed?  " 

A  sudden  warmth  came  into  Doctor  Hughes' 
eyes.  He  answered  slowly: 

"  I  believe  I  do  —  yes,  Mrs.  Kirby,  but  with 


162  Only  Henrietta 

Henrietta's  devotion  to   you  —  and  your   devo- 
tion to  her,  I  have  no  fears  for  the  future." 

He  turned  away  rather  suddenly,  and  went  to 
find  his  mother. 


CHAPTER  XI 

PROBLEMS 

THE  months  following  Mrs.  KIrby's  illness 
left  her  weak  and  spent.  Her  white  face,  il- 
lumed always  by  two  flaming  spots  of  color  high 
on  her  cheek  bones,  the  unnatural  brilliancy  of 
her  eyes,  spoke  all  too  plainly  of  waning  health. 

But  yet  she  was  hopeful,  resourceful.  If 
life's  obstructions,  its  trials  and  vicissitudes  had 
broken  upon  her,  they  had  but  laid  bare  the 
splendor  of  her  soul.  She  carried  her  courage 
high  —  a  banner  to  defeat  discouragement. 

"  I  should  think  you'd  let  Henrietta  find  some- 
thing to  do,"  neighbors  said,  watching  Mrs. 
Kirby's  heroic  struggle  to  keep  the  wolf  from 
the  door.  "  She's  so  big  and  strong.  There's 
plenty  of  places  she  could  get  tending  babies  or 
doing  second  work  in  some  of  the  fine  houses  in 
the  North  end." 

Mrs.  Kirby's  eyes  flashed,  but  she  answered 
calmly : 

"  We  haven't  asked  our  friends  to  help  us 
yet.  When  we  do,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  take 
Henrietta  out  of  school  and  put  her  to  work." 

163 


164  Only  Henrietta 

But  for  all  she  scorned  such  suggestions,  she 
often  wondered  if  the  neighbors  were  not  right. 
Debts  were  piling  up.  Her  hospital  fees  had 
not  been  returned  to  Mrs.  Lovell,  though  no 
mention  was  ever  made  of  the  fact  by  her  kind 
friend.  Her  one  hope  was  that  she  would  grow 
stronger. 

Henrietta  was  becoming  difficult,  too.  A  girl 
verging  on  fourteen  resents  wearing  cast  off 
clothing,  no  matter  how  well  the  dye  pot  has  suc- 
ceeded in  deceiving  the  public.  Her  spirit  of  in- 
dependence is  aroused.  She  wants  things  —  no 
end  of  things  —  especially  if  the  girls  she  associ- 
ates with  have  them. 

"  Every  girl  in  school  wears  silk  stockings  but 
me,  Mother,"  she  remonstrated  one  morning. 
"  We  just  have  to  have  them  in  Gym.  Miss 
Norris  says  things  have  got  to  be  uniform." 

"  But  we  can't  possibly  afford  silk  stockings, 
Henrietta." 

"  I  thought  maybe  I  could  earn  a  little  money 
after  school  some  days  if  you  would  let  me." 

"How,   dear?" 

"  Doing  nails.     You  could  teach  me." 

Mrs.  Kirby's  pride  battled  with  her  conscience. 
Had  she  the  right  to  deny  Henrietta  the  things 
her  head  coveted  just  because  —  because  of  a 
foolish  feeling  that  she  was  a  Crosby?  Perhaps 
she  should  let  her  work  in  the  afternoons. 


Problems  165 

"  I  will  think  it  over,  Henrietta.  You  might 
be  able  to  help  in  some  way." 

"Won't  you  show  me  how  you  do  nails?  I 
mean  the  best  way.  Of  course  I  know  how  to 
do  my  own.  And  I  could  brush  hair,  too,  and 
give  massage.  I  know  I  could." 

"  I  thought  you  always  hated  my  business,  Hen- 
rietta." 

"I  do  —  but  I  want  the  stockings  —  and  a 
pretty  new  blouse.  I  don't  mind  wearing  Mary 
Helen's  gray  skirt  since  you  dyed  it  black,  not  a 
bit.  I  don't  believe  the  girls  have  recognized 
it.  But  you  can't  dye  a  red  blouse  anything 
pretty  —  to  save  you !  " 

"  I  know,  Henrietta.  It  is  trying,  but  we 
ought  to  be  thankful  to  our  friends  for  helping 
us  at  all." 

"  I'm  tired  of  being  thankful.  I  want  to  be 
glad.  Glad  of  having  new  things,  like  the  oth- 
ers. Lucy  Gates  has  a  new  dress  pretty  nearly 
every  month." 

"  Would  you  change  places  with  Lucy  Gates?  " 

"  No;  I  don't  know  as  I  would.  I'd  hate  her 
eyes  and  her  complexion.  But,  oh,  Mother,  you 
don't  know  how  I  love  pretty  things;  little  ruffly 
collars  and  cuffs  with  gold  pins;  and  nice  stock- 
ings. I  do  just  adore  nice  shoes  and  stockings. 
I  can't  seem  to  help  it." 

The  rosy,  young  face  was  all  aglow. 


166  Only  Henrietta 

"  I'll  think  it  over,  dearest.  In  the  meantime 
try  to  be  patient.  Did  I  ever  show  you  the  verse 
that  Doctor  Burke  gave  me  when  I  was  a  little 
girl?" 

"No;  not  that  I  remember." 

"  I'll  find  it." 

Mrs.  Kirby  came  back  into  the  parlor  presently 
with  a  faded  slip  cut  from  a  newspaper.  Henri- 
etta read  it  wonderingly. 

"  '  Plant  patience  in  the  garden  of  thy  soul ; 
The  roots  are  bitter  but  the  fruits  are  sweet. 
And  when  at  last  it  stands  a  tree  complete, 
Beneath  its  tender  shade  and  burning  heat 
The  burden  of  the  day  shall  lose  control. 
Plant  patience  in  the  garden  of  thy  soul.'  " 

When  she  had  finished,  she  handed  the  clip- 
ping back  to  her  mother. 

"  It  sounds  nice,"  she  said,  "  perfectly  lovely. 
It's  awfully  good  poetry,  but  —  it's  just  like  look- 
ing at  a  photograph  of  a  nice  place.  Just  look- 
ing at  it  isn't  going  to  really  get  you  there.  It 
isn't  going  to  stop  the  longing  —  and  the  feeling 
that  everybody  else  is  going  to  see  it.  It  doesn't 
make  you  want  to  wait.  It  just  makes  you  mad. 
I  hate  those  things  that  people  pin  up  to  live  by. 
Mrs.  Gates  has  'em.  '  My  Symphony  '  and  '  My 
beautiful,  unsullied  page  of  to-morrow.'  Mrs. 
Gates!  " 


Problems  167 

Henrietta's  scorn  spoke  volumes. 

"  You  are  too  young  to  argue  such  questions 
now,  my  dear  child,"  Etta  Kirby  reasoned,  and 
went  out  in  the  kitchen. 

As  she  worked  she  wondered.  Would  Henri- 
etta really  be  any  happier  if  she  had  the  things 
she  coveted?  Did  happiness  develop  character, 
bring  out  the  best  in  people?  Why  were  moth- 
ers always  trying  to  save  their  children  from  care 
and  responsibility?  There  was  only  one  road  to 
true  understanding  ...  it  was  long  and  wind- 
ing ...  it  led  through  experience  and  self-sac- 
rifice. .  .  . 

Mrs.  Kirby  came  out  of  the  kitchen  a  half  hour 
later  and  spoke  to  Henrietta. 

"  I  have  a  few  minutes  now,"  she  said,  quietly, 
"  and  I  will  give  you  a  lesson  in  manicuring.  Get 
a  clean  towel,  a  bowl  and  some  warm  water." 

Henrietta  jumped  up  in  haste. 

"  Oh,  Mother,  will  you  really  —  now?" 

"  Yes.     You  may  begin  on  my  nails." 

Henrietta  glanced  at  the  pink  tips  of  her  moth- 
er's fingers  and  frowned. 

"  I  couldn't  learn  much  on  yours,"  she  said, 
"  you  keep  them  so  nice  all  the  time.  Would 
you  mind  if  I  did  Min's?  I'll  run  and  get  her." 

Mrs.  Kirby  did  not  mind,  and  the  next  half 
hour  saw  Henrietta  deep  in  the  mysteries  of  a 
business. 


168  Only  Henrietta 

It  did  not  take  many  lessons  to  perfect  a  nat- 
ural ability,  and  Henrietta  was  soon  earning  her 
fifty  cents  an  hour  after  school.  Mrs.  Kirby  al- 
ways winced  when  she  left  the  house,  and  (she 
knew  that  it  was  cowardly)  allowed  Henrietta  to 
go  to  homes  only  where  there  were  no  chil- 
dren. She  didn't  want  the  girls  to  know  —  carry 
back  tales.  Pride  was  the  last  enemy  to  be  con- 
quered. 

The  winter  dragged  slowly.  Days  do  not  fly 
when  want  and  worry  knock  at  the  door.  And 
yet,  there  were  pleasures  and  compensations. 
Friends  were  kind,  oh,  so  kind!  Sometimes  Mrs. 
Kirby  thought  that  kindness  was  harder  to  bear 
than  scorn.  The  dish  of  soup  that  came  in 
steaming  hot  from  Mrs.  McHenry's;  the  pan  of 
light  rolls  from  Minnie's  Aunt  Amelia;  occasional 
delicacies  from  Mrs.  Lovell,  all  carried  a  sting. 
Did  they  think  her  in  want?  More  often  than 
not  the  soup  choked  her,  though  she  was  very 
grateful. 

Doctor  Hughes,  too,  was  a  source  of  comfort. 
He  had  followed  up  her  illness  with  neighborly 
visits.  It  was  good  to  see  his  big,  rugged  form 
looming  in  the  doorway;  to  hear  his  hearty  laugh, 
and  Mrs.  Kirby  and  Henrietta  both  loved  his 
mother.  Dear,  quaint  little  Mrs.  Hughes  who 
lived  and  breathed  for  her  clever  son.  How 
proud  she  was  of  him !  Hadn't  he  been  appointed 


Problems  169 

Chief  Surgeon  at  the  big  hospital  on  the  hill,  and 
wasn't  he  climbing  to  fame  faster  every  day? 

"  Seems  as  if  Doctor  Hughes  and  his  mother 
have  pretty  nearly  adopted  us,"  Henrietta  said 
one  night  after  she  and  her  mother  had  been 
there  to  dinner. 

.Going  to  Mrs.  Hughes'  to  dinner  was  indeed 
a  treat. 

Henrietta  didn't  quite  approve  of  the  furnish- 
ings of  the  "  old  Gayford  place  that  had  been 
fixed  up,"  but  she  loved  its  coziness.  The 
chairs  were  deep  and  comfortable,  and  the  dining 
table  was  always  loaded  with,  good  things,  for 
Mrs.  Hughes  was  a  splendid  cook. 

Doctor  Hughes  was  an  ideal  host.  Henrietta 
often  regretted  that  he  was  a  physician;  he  was 
so  likely  to  be  called  away  from  home  just  as  they 
had  settled  down  for  an  evening's  amusement  be- 
fore the  cheerful  grate  fire. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  she  would  say,  as  she  ran  for 
his  woolly  top  coat  that  hung  in  the  draughty  front 
hall,  "  why  are  people  so  horrid  about  sending 
for  a  doctor  at  night.  Seems  to  me  they  just  wait 
till  dark!" 

"  I've  had  that  feeling  myself  sometimes," 
the  doctor  would  say  burrowing  into  the  sleeves 
of  the  coat  she  held  on  tiptoe.  "  But  you've 
got  to  expect  that  if  you're  going  to  be  a  doctor!  " 

Henrietta,    with    a    sense    of    proprietorship, 


170  Only  Henrietta 

would  button  him  snugly  into  the  great  coat,  and 
he  would  take  her  round  chin  in  his  strong  hand 
and  wag  her  head  by  way  of  thanks. 

"  Get  in  as  early  as  you  can,  Son,  you  need 
your  rest,"  Mrs.  Hughes  would  admonish,  as  she 
lifted  her  face  for  his  good-by  kiss.  "  I'm 
afraid  it's  going  to  be  cold  to-night." 

"  Mother  thinks  people  ought  to  cut  pain  short 
on  a  cold  night,"  he  would  laugh  as  he  went  out. 
"  Come  over  again,  won't  you?  We'll  have  that 
game  next  time." 

"  He  doesn't  know  how  to  take  care  of  himself 
any  more  than  a  baby,  for  all  he's  a  doctor,"  his 
mother  would  say,  shaking  her  head  sadly.  "  I 
have  to  keep  at  him  all  the  time." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  ever  thinks  about  himself." 
It  was  Henrietta  who  spoke. 

"No;  he  doesn't.  John  is  the  self-effacing 
kind  —  always  has  been.  He  needs  a  guardian." 
There  was  a  wistful  look  in  the  patient  old  eyes. 
"  I've  often  wished,"  she  went  on,  "  that  he'd 
find  some  nice  young  woman  and  settle  down.  I 
sha'n't  have  so  very  many  more  years  with  him, 
at  best.  But  he's  never  thought  much  about 
women;  not  in  that  way." 

Henrietta  and  her  mother  would  linger  for 
awhile  before  the  cheerful  fire  after  the  Doctor 
left.  Sometimes  Henrietta  brought  her  books, 
and  Mrs.  Kirby  her  work.  Customers  were  giv- 


Problems  171 

ing  her  mending  and  light  sewing  to  do  at  home. 
It  helped  out,  and  was  not  hard. 

Mrs.  Hughes  usually  kept  up  the  conversation. 
It  always  pertained  to  John,  but  Mrs.  Kirby 
didn't  mind.  She  knew  the  dear  old  soul  forgot 
how  often  she  told  about  his  first  trousers,  "  made 
from  father's  gray  worsted  suit  ";  of  the  time  he 
had  typhoid,  and  when  he  broke  his  collar  bone 
playing  football. 

Mrs.  Kirby  became  familiar  with  the  old  home- 
stead, too,  "  up  in  New  York  State  "  and  the  nice 
little  creek  that  sang  in  the  pasture  behind  the 
house.  She  knew  the  adjacent  village  and  the 
names  of  the  neighbors  who  came  to  the  train 
when  Mrs.  Hughes  and  her  doctor  son  left  for 
"  the  jumping-off  place." 

"  Seemed  to  them,"  Mrs.  Hughes  would  say, 
laying  down  her  knitting  and  peering  over  her 
spectacles  into  Mrs.  Kirby's  face  with  amuse- 
ment, "  that  we  are  coming  straight  to  the  wil- 
derness. I  must  say  I  thought  so  myself.  You 
could  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather  when 
I  saw  the  big  houses  on  the  avenue !  A  heap  bet- 
ter than  we  had  in  Wellmyra,  though  Judge 
Wentworth  had  just  finished  his  three-story  brick 
on  the  new  drive  to  Peekskill." 

Mrs.  Kirby  knew  all  about  the  death  of  John's 
father;  and  the  struggle  to  send  John  to  college, 
"  because  he  was  always,  from  the  time  he  could 


172  Only  Henrietta 

walk,  makin'  little  pills  and  rollin'  up  powders 
like  old  Doctor  Bromley." 

It  relieved  the  old  lady's  mind  to  talk  of  these 
bygone  days.  Etta  Kirby  knew  it.  She  would 
have  loved  such  an  outlet  herself  if  there  had 
been  any  one  to  care,  or  understand.  And  it  was 
her  nature  to  be  helpful.  The  thought  of  being 
necessary  to  some  one's  happiness  filled  her  with 

joy- 
Mrs.  Hughes  was  of  her  own  kind,  too. 
There  was  no  class  distinction  to  put  a  gulf  be- 
tween them  —  such  as  yawned  between  herself 
and  Mrs.  Lovell.  Mrs.  Kirby  never  felt  quite 
comfortable  with  Mrs.  Lovell.  It  was  strange 
that  Henrietta  felt  no  difference  —  except  in  the 
matter  of  wealth.  That  was  probably  due  to 
her  Crosby  blood.  It  manifested  itself  in  so 
many  ways. 

Mrs.  Lovell  had  never  again  referred  to  Hen- 
rietta's likeness  to  some  one  she  had  known. 
Mrs.  Kirby  did  not  know  whether  she  had  discov- 
ered who  it  was  or  not.  If  she  had  discovered 
that  Henrietta  was  Henry  Crosby's  child  she  had 
evidently  made  up  her  mind  to  guard  the  secret. 
She  kept  up  Henrietta's  lessons  with  the  greatest 
interest,  and  Henrietta  was  fast  absorbing  the  re- 
finements that  her  mother  craved  for  her.  She 
was  gaining  poise :  she  no  longer  swept  through 
the  house  like  a  breeze,  throwing  her  books  and 


Problems  173 

clothes  to  right  and  left,  and  her  tones  were  low 
and  respectful  —  even  to  Miss  Ellwell. 

"  Miss  Ellwell  isn't  always  a  lady,"  she  con- 
fided to  her  mother  one  night  after  they  had  re 
tired.     It  was  their  visiting  hour.     "  She  shouts 
at  everybody,  and  she  calls  us  all  sorts  of  things." 

"  Teachers  get  very  tired,  dear,  and  children 
are  annoying." 

"  I  know  —  I  don't  always  blame  her,  only  she 
shouldn't  shout!  It's  bad  form.  It  stamps  you 
as  being  ordinary." 

Mrs.  Kirby  smiled  under  the  cover  of  dark- 
ness. Mrs.  Lovell's  work  was  telling.  Henri- 
etta was  finding  values  —  placing  them. 

"  The  other  day,"  Henrietta  continued,  "  Miss 
Ellwell  began  to  shout  at  me  because  I  couldn't 
find  the  place  in  the  book  as  quickly  as  she  thought 
I  should.  I  just  stopped  looking  and  stared  at 
her." 

"Why,  Henrietta  1" 

**  And  she  kept  on  shouting  until  I  couldn't 
have  found  it  if  I'd  wanted  to,  and  I  said,  in  the 
lowest,  nicest  tone  I  could  get,  '  If  you  will  stop 
shouting  at  me,  Miss  Ellwell,  I'll  try  and  do  what 
you  want  me  to,  but  you  hurt  my  ears  with  those 
loud  tones  — '  ' 

"  Henrietta!  That  was  very  priggish.  I 
hate  to  have  you  do  such  things." 

"  I  don't  see  why.     She's  been  shouting  that 


174  Only  Henrietta 

way  at  the  whole  class  for  nearly  a  year  and  no- 
body has  said  a  word.  Everybody  was  afraid. 
I  don't  see  why  children  haven't  some  rights." 

"  She's  older  than  you  are  — " 

"  Certainly,  and  she  should  set  an  example, 
shouldn't  she?  Would  you  want  me  to  get  into 
the  habit  of  shouting?" 

"  I'd  rather  you'd  shout,  than  be  rude." 

"  But  she  was  both !  " 

As  usual,  Henrietta  had  the  better  of  the  argu- 
ment. 

"  I  apologized  after  class,"  Henrietta  said  as 
she  heard  her  mother  sigh.  "  She  didn't  accept 
it  very  well  —  but  she  hasn't  shouted  since. 
And  I've  tried  to  keep  the  place.  You  see,  it 
was  a  good  thing  for  both  of  us !  " 

That  was  one  thing  about  Henrietta,  she 
wanted  to  play  fair.  If  she  erred  in  judgment, 
was  rude  or  unkind,  she  wanted  to  make  it  right 
immediately  —  clear  the  slate. 

"  You're  the  nicest  person  about  making  an 
apology  I  ever  knew,"  Minnie  said  to  her  one 
day,  and  Henrietta  answered: 

"  Maybe  I'm  the  selfishest  one  you  know,  too. 
You  see,  I  can't  bear  to  have  anybody  angry  at 
me.  It  takes  the  joy  out  of  everything.  Even 
if  the  birds  are  singing  and  the  sky's  as  blue  as 
can  be  —  there's  something  that  hurts  here  (she 
put  her  hand  over  her  heart)  and  I  have  to  make 


Problems  175 

things  right.  I  just  have  to!  I  want  so  to  be 
happy,  Min.  I  kind  of  think  God  meant  people 
to  be  happy,  or  He  wouldn't  make  'em  hurt  when 
they  do  wrong,  and  just  nearly  burst  with  joy 
when  they've  done  right." 

That,  "  /  just  have  to,"  may  have  been  the 
whispering  of  the  Crosby  blood,  or  it  may  have 
been  the  wee  small  voice  of  conscience,  but  it  was 
the  motor  power  that  moved  Henrietta.  She 
never  failed  to  listen  to  its  pleading.  The  force 
that  took  her  into  dangerous  places,  brought  her 
back.  Crosby  blood  prompted  and  drove  — 
but  conscience  pleaded  and  defended. 

Her  first  year  in  high  school  had  been  fairly 
successful.  With  most  young  people  it  is  a 
period  of  adjustment.  Everything  is  so  different 
from  the  grammar  grades,  and  "  Freshies  "  are 
never  given  much  consideration. 

Henrietta  managed  to  bring  home  very  good 
reports,  especially  in  English  and  Latin,  which 
were  her  favorite  studies,  and  she  excelled  in 
the  gymnasium.  Her  young,  lithe  figure,  more 
like  a  boy's  than  a  girl's,  responded  to  the  wrhole- 
some  exercises.  The  more  vigorous  they  were 
the  better  Henrietta  liked  them,  and  she  loved 
the  dancing. 

She  was  not  a  favorite  with  the  teachers. 
They  rather  resented  her  frankness,  even  though 
they  respected  it. 


176  Only  Henrietta 

"That  Kirby  girl,"  Miss  Ellwell  remarked 
one  morning  to  Henrietta's  Latin  teacher,  "  is 
very  exasperating.  I  understand  that  her 
mother  is  only  a  hairdresser,  but  she  has  the  man- 
ner and  attitude  of  an  aristocrat.  She  has  a  way 
of  making  you  feel  that  she  is  superior — " 

"  She  is, —  to  the  general  run  of  girls,"  Miss 
Stockman  broke  in  quickly.  "  And  she  has  a  fine 
mind." 

"  I'm  not  complaining  of  her  mind  —  it's  her 
manner.  The  other  day  in  class  she  attempted 
to  rebuke  me  " —  Miss  Ellwell  smiled  feebly  — 
"  for  something  which  she  considered  an  affront. 
I  should  have  complained  to  Professor  Howard, 
only  that  she  apologized  so  warmly." 

"  I  admire  Henrietta  very  much,"  Miss  Stock- 
man said,  "  because  she's  so  honest.  Her  man- 
ners may  want  mending,  but  her  principle  is  above 
reproach." 


CHAPTER  XII 

A    SURPRISE 

JUNE  had  come  again.  Summer  fragrance 
filled  the  air.  Along  the  avenues  the  cottonwood 
trees  were  unfolding  tiny  green  leaves,  and  the 
water  in  the  ditch  boxes  sang  merrily. 

Mrs.  Kirby  stood  at  her  front  gate  looking 
down  the  road  anxiously.  It  was  the  last  day 
of  school,  and  Henrietta  should  have  been 
through  and  at  home  some  time  before. 

She  caught  sight  of  her  presently,  pulling  up 
the  hill,  her  skirts  billowing  about  her  in  the  light 
south  wind.  Van  Dyne  Walcott  walked  on  one 
side,  his  arms  laden  with  books,  and  Minnie 
lagged  hesitatingly  on  the  other. 

"  I  wish  she  would  send  that  boy  about  his  busi- 
ness and  hurry  in,"  Mrs.  Kirby  thought  as  she 
went  back  into  the  house  to  wait  until  Henrietta 
finished  her  conversation  at  the  gate. 

Mrs.  Kirby  was  looking  better.  The  warm 
weather,  or  the  mild  weather,  rather,  for  Colo- 
rado is  seldom  warm  in  June,  had  given  her  new 
life.  The  cough  was  much  better,  thanks  to 
Doctor  Hughes's  watchfulness  and  care,  and  the 
color  in  her  cheeks  seemed  less  brilliant. 

177 


178  Only  Henrietta 

"  Oh,  I  do  wish  Henrietta  would  hurry,"  she 
said  half  aloud,  nervously  glancing  at  the  pages 
of  a  letter  that  had  come  in  the  morning  mail. 
She  slipped  the  loose  leaves  back  into  the  envel- 
ope and  then  took  them  out  again,  lingering  over 
the  lines  dreamily.  She  had  read  them  over  for 
the  second  time  when  she  heard  Henrietta's  step 
on  the  porch,  then  she  hastily  folded  up  the 
sheets,  and  returned  them  to  the  long  business- 
like looking  envelope  which  she  put  into  her  apron 
pocket. 

Henrietta  threw  her  books  on  a  chair  and 
tossed  her  hat  in  the  direction  of  the  hall  rack. 

"  I'm  through,"  she  announced  gayly.  "  I 
passed  in  everything.  I  believe  I  got  the  best 
mark  in  the  room  in  Latin." 

"  That's  fine,  Henrietta.  How  was  the  al- 
gebra?" 

"  Nothing  to  boast  of  —  but  I  got  through. 
Min  failed,  though.  I  felt  so  sorry  for  her. 
She's  tried  hard.  She  says  she  thinks  she's  got 
a  vacant  place  in  her  head  where  mathematics 
ought  to  be!  Sometimes  I  think  I  have,  too." 

"  Pick  up  your  things,  Henrietta,  and  put  them 
away.  I  haven't  seen  you  throw  your  things 
around  like  this  for  a  long  time." 

"  Oh,  Mother,  don't  fuss.  It's  vacation. 
You  have  to  let  down  a  little.  Just  think,  the 
whole  summer  ahead  —  stretching  like  a  beauti- 


A  Surprise  179 

nil  shining  road  straight  out  to  the  mountains. 
Mr.  Haswell  has  promised  to  take  Min  and  me 
to  the  Peak  in  July,  without  fail.  We're  going 
to  get  up  to  the  top  in  time  for  the  sunrise,  too  1 
Think  of  it!" 

She  caught  up  her  gingham  skirt  and  executed 
a  fancy  step  in  and  out  between  the  show  case 
and  the  chairs. 

"  Henrietta,  stop !  Sit  down,  I  want  to  talk 
to  you." 

"  Goodness,  Mother,  has  anything  happened? 
You  look  so  —  so  awfully  important.  Has 
somebody  given  you  up  ?  " 

"  A  great  many  people  give  me  up  in  the  sum- 
mer time,  Henrietta." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  but  I  thought  — " 

She  put  a  protecting  arm  about  her  mother's 
neck. 

"  You  don't  have  to  worry  now  I'm  growing 
up,  you  know.  I'll  soon  be  able  to  take  care  of 
you.  Miss  Norris  said  to-day  that  I  ought  to 
specialize  in  languages.  I'm  getting  a  good 
foundation.  She  thinks  I'd  make  a  real  good 
teacher,  but  I  must  say  I'm  not  crazy  about  it. 
Teachers  get  so  crusty  and  set,  most  of  them  — " 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  to-day,  Henrietta,"  Mrs. 
Kirby  said,  cutting  the  conversation  short. 
"  From  —  your  father." 

"  From  —  my  —  father!  " 


180  Only  Henrietta 

"  Yes.' 

Henrietta  was  standing  near  the  couch  and 
she  tumbled  back  upon  it  and  looked  at  her 
mother  with  dazed  eyes. 

"  What's  he  writing  for?  " 

"  Why  —  he's  just  writing  —  that's  all.  I 
suppose  he  thinks  of  us  occasionally." 

Mrs.  Kirby  drew  the  letter  from  her  pocket, 
extracted  a  slip  of  paper  and  handed  the  open 
sheets  to  Henrietta. 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  it,"  her  daughter  said, 
decidedly.  u  I've  never  got  over  hating  him, 
even  if  I  don't  say  anything  about  it.  Where  is 
he?" 

"He's  in  Chili  —  way  down  in  South 
America." 

"What's  he  doing  there?" 

"  He  doesn't  say.  I  take  it  he's  been  rather 
successful  —  he  sent  me  a  draft  —  some 
money.  .  .  ." 

"  I  hope  you  -burned  it  up !  " 

"No  —  I  should  scarcely  dare  to  destroy  — 
so  much." 

"How  much?" 

"  Five  hundred  dollars,  Henrietta." 

"Five  hundred  dollars!" 

"  Yes." 

"  Why,  Mother,  that's  pretty  nearly  a  fortune, 
isn't  it?" 


A  Surprise  181 

"  To  us  —  yes." 

"  But  you're  not  going  to  take  it,  of  course. 
You'll  send  it  right  back,  Mother." 

"  I  don't  know  where  to  send  it,  Henrietta." 

"  Wasn't  there  an  address?  " 

"  No  —  simply  a  postmark  on  the  envelope." 

Henrietta's  face  flushed  a  deep  scarlet,  and  her 
eyes  blazed. 

"  He's  afraid  we  might  try  to  find  him  and 
make  him  support  us  —  maybe.  Do  you  sup- 
pose that's  it?  " 

"  You  may  read  the  letter." 

"  I  don't  care  to.  I  have  told  you  how  I  feel 
about  him." 

"  But  that's  wicked,  dear." 

"  Then  I'll  have  to  be  wicked.  I'll  be  like 
him." 

"  You  are  speaking  of  your  father  —  your  own 
flesh  and  blood,  Henrietta." 

"  I  may  be  speaking  of  my  own  flesh  and  blood 
but  not  of  —  my  father!  Fathers  don't  desert 
their  children  —  run  away  without  even  saying 
good-by.  I  wouldn't  own  a  coward  for  my  fa- 
ther." 

"  Henrietta !  " 

'  That's  what  he  was,  Mother.  He  married 
you,  and  you  trusted  him,  and  he  wasn't  true  to 
his  word.  He  was  a  —  a  piker!  " 

"  Henrietta,  I  forbid  you  to  speak  that  way." 


182  Only  Henrietta 

"  All  right,  Mother,  but  you  can't  forbid  my 
thinking  —  I  can't  myself." 

"  You  don't  want  to  look  at  the  letter,  Hen- 
rietta?" 

"  I  don't  even  want  to  see  the  envelope.  And 
as  for  touching  his  money,  well,  I'd  most  starve 
first.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  Put  it  in  the  bank,  I  suppose." 

"And  use  it?" 

"Some  of  it  —  perhaps.  We're  not  out  of 
debt  yet,  Henrietta.  It  takes  a  long  time  to  catch 
up  after  an  illness." 

"  I  know  it  does,  but  —  I'm  going  to  try  to  get 
some  work  this  summer.  You  said  I  might." 

"  Yes;  but  we  must  live,  and  expenses  are  very 
high." 

Henrietta  picked  up  her  hat  and  books. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  she  sighed,  "  why  did  this  have  to 
come  just  when  I  was  so  happy  getting  out  of 
school  and  everything?  " 

She  turned  suddenly  to  see  tears  glistening  in 
her  mother's  eyes. 

"  Why,  Mother  —  don't  feel  that  way,  please. 
I'll  read  the  letter  if  you  want  me  to.  I'll  do 
anything  to  make  you  happier." 

Mrs.  Kirby  returned  the  letter  to  her  pocket 
in  silence. 

"  Give  it  to  me,  Mother." 

"  Not  now,   dear.     Not  while  you're  in  this 


A  Surprise  183 

mood.  Wait  until  after  dinner.  There's  some- 
thing else  I  want  to  talk  with  you  about." 

Henrietta  turned  expectantly. 

"  Mrs.  Lovell  was  here  to-day.  She  said  — 
she  wants  us  to  go  up  to  Mountain  Falls  this  sum- 
mer and  take  her  cottage.  She's  going  to  Cali- 
fornia." 

Henrietta  gave  a  wild  leap  and  landed  with 
arms  close  about  her  mother. 

"  Up  in  the  mountains!  Oh,  oh!  Could  we? 
Would  it  be  possible?" 

"  I  suppose  it  would  if  I  gave  up  my  work 
and  —  used  some  of  this  money." 

Henrietta's  face  fell. 

"  Isn't  there  any  other  way?  " 

"  No,  there  isn't,  Henrietta." 

"  And  the  change  would  be  so  good  for  you, 
wouldn't  it?" 

"  I  think  a  complete  rest  would  be  the  making 
of  me.  Mrs.  Lovell  thinks  so,  too." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  and  then: 

"  I  suppose  if  we  must,  we  must,  Mother.  If 
it  means  health  for  you  —  but  I'll  work  my  fin- 
gers off  to  pay  it  back  to  him.  We'll  only  borrow 
it  for  awhile.  I  shall  save  something  out  of 
every  dollar  I  earn  until  we  pay  it  back." 

'  That  would  take  a  long  time,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Maybe  we  wouldn't  have  to  use  it  all." 

"  There's  still  over  a  hundred  dollars'  debt." 


184  Only  Henrietta 

"  And  how  much  would  it  take  to  go  up 
there  —  to  Mountain  Falls  for  the  summer." 

"  A  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  at  the  very 
least  —  if  I  gave  up  all  my  work." 

"  Well  —  that's  only  two  hundred  and  fifty.'* 

"  How  long  do  you  think  it  would  take  me 
to  save  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  Henri- 
etta?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

'  Three  or  four  years,  if  I  put  by  every  penny 
and  scrimped  more  than  we  do  now.  Besides, 
you  will  have  to  have  some  clothes.  I  wanted 
you  to  have  a  pretty  white  dress  this  year." 

"  You  don't  suppose  I'd  let  you  get  it  out  of 
that,  do  you?  " 

"  There's  no  reason  why  we  should  not  use  this 
money,  Henrietta.  I  have  provided  for  you  all 
your  life  —  your  father  is  just  as  responsible  for 
you  as  I  am." 

"  Well,  you  wouldn't  think  it!  " 

Henrietta  went  into  the  kitchen  and  laid  the 
fire  in  the  stove. 

"  I'll  get  supper,"  she  called  back  to  her 
mother,  "  you  needn't  bother.  Just  tell  me  what 
you  want." 

Mrs.  Kirby  followed  her  daughter  in  silence. 

"What  do  you  want  for  supper,  Mother? 
Tell  me." 

"  We're  not  going  to  have  much,  Henrietta. 


A  Surprise  185 

I  don't  mind  getting  it.  There's  fresh  bread, 
and  the  prunes  I  stewed  this  morning;  we'll  just 
make  a  cup  of  tea." 

Henrietta  gave  her  head  a  toss  and  her  lips 
pouted  in  her  mother's  direction. 

"  Prunes !  "  she  said  with  disgust.  "  I  hate 
'em.  When  I  keep  house  I  shall  kill  the  cook  if 
she  dares  to  order  them  without  my  knowledge. 
They  choke  me." 

:'  They  are  very  wholesome  and  good  for  you, 
Henrietta." 

"  I  suppose  they  are.  That's  why  I  hate  'em. 
I  have  been  brought  up  on  things  that  were  good 
for  me.  When  I'm  married  I  shall  never  have 
oatmeal,  prunes,  or  flannels  in  the  house." 

"  Don't  be  foolish.  If  you  really  want  to  help, 
you  may  set  the  table." 

"Nor  red  tablecloths!"  Henrietta  flung 
back.  "  That's  another  thing  I  hate." 

But  for  all  her  heart  held  so  much  scorn  she 
hummed  a  merry  little  tune  as  she  got  out  the 
knives  and  forks,  the  thick  tumblers  and  heavy 
china.  She  had  forgotten  her  father's  perfidy 
for  the  moment.  The  memory  of  Van  Dyne 
Walcott's  witty  remarks  on  the  way  home,  ob- 
literated it. 

They  were  halfway  through  the  simple  meal 
when  Henrietta  broke  the  silence  that  hung  be- 
tween them. 


186  Only  Henrietta 

'What  makes  you  so  still,  Mother?  You 
haven't  said  a  word  since  we  sat  down." 

"  I  am  thinking,  Henrietta,  trying  to  make 
plans.  I  was  talking  to  Mrs.  Lovell  to-day; 
she's  always  so  good  about  advising  me.  She 
thinks  that  if  we  go  up  to  the  Falls  this  summer  it 
would  be  silly  to  keep  this  house.  She  thinks  it 
would  be  a  good  thing  to  sell  off  what  we  don't 
need  and  store  the  rest.  When  we  come  home 
we  could  find  a  couple  of  rooms  for  light  house- 
keeping, and  be  as  comfortable  as  we  are 
here." 

"  What  would  you  sell,  Mother?  "  Henrietta 
held  her  breath  with  expectancy. 

"  The  show  case,  for  one  thing.  People  never 
stop  in  to  buy  things  any  more.  I'm  most  al- 
ways away  — " 

The  dropping  of  Henrietta's  knife  and  fork 
almost  broke  her  plate. 

"  Mother!  "  she  gasped,  "  do  you  really  mean 
it?  I  didn't  think  you'd  ever  part  with  it.  Oh, 
I  could  scream  with  joy!  To  think  of  having  a 
parlor  like  other  people's.  Would  you  —  do 
you  'spose  you'd  have  to  keep  the  Morris  chair?  " 

u  We  must  have  something  to  sit  in,  wherever 
we  are,  Henrietta." 

"  I  know,  but  maybe  we  could  get  something 
else." 

"How,  my  dear?" 


A  Surprise  187 

"  Why  —  I  don't  know  exactly  —  buy  it,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  Yes,  we  have  some  money  now  — " 

"  But  not  with  that.  No,  Mother.  We'll 
keep  the  chair." 

The  eyes  that  lifted  to  Henrietta's  were  sad 
and  reproachful. 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  get  your  ability  to 
hate  so,"  Mrs.  Kirby  began,  and  stopped  sud- 
denly. A  vision  of  Henry  Crosby's  aunt  rose 
before  her. 

"  Maybe  I  get  it  from  him,"  Henrietta  said. 

There  was  no  answer. 

"Do  I?" 

"No;  your  father  was  very  sweet-tempered." 

Something  in  her  mother's  eyes  appealed  to 
Henrietta.  She  leaned  across  the  table. 

"  I'll  read  his  letter  if  you  want  me  to,  Mother, 
and  I'll  try  not  to  feel  hateful  —  for  your  sake. 
Where  is  it?" 

Mrs.  Kirby  reached  into  her  apron  pocket  and 
handed  the  letter  to  Henrietta.  Then  she  began 
picking  up  the  dishes. 

Henrietta  took  the  letter  into  the  parlor  and 
sat  down  by  the  window  to  read  it.  When  she 
had  finished  she  returned  it  to  her  mother  with- 
out a  word. 

u  Shall  we  wash  them  now  or  wait  until  morn- 
ing? "  she  asked  in  a  strained  voice. 


188  Only  Henrietta 

"The  dishes?  Oh,  we'll  do  them  now,  dear. 
I'm  not  very  busy  to-night.  You  may  run  over 
to  Minnie's  awhile  if  you  want  to." 

"  I'll  wipe.  Then  maybe  I'll  go  over  there. 
Min  wanted  me  to  spend  the  evening.  She's  go- 
ing to  have  the  bunch  in."  The  "  bunch  "  meant 
the  neighborhood  girls. 

Twilight  had  come  before  Mrs.  Kirby  finished 
her  round  of  duties  —  soft  Colorado  twilight  that 
holds  the  afterglow  of  sunset.  She  settled  down 
in  the  chair  that  Henrietta  had  left  by  the  win- 
dow and  gazed  out  to  the  west.  She  could  still 
see  the  rugged  ridge  of  old  Cheyenne  Mountain, 
dim  in  outline.  She  wondered  how  long  it  had 
stood  there,  a  buttress  for  the  elements.  She 
fancied  she  could  hear  the  soft  June  wind  sing- 
ing in  the  pine  trees  and  smell  the  wild  flowers 
that  were  springing  up  between  the  rocks  and 
along  the  streams. 

Her  heart  gave  a  leap  as  she  thought  of  a 
summer  in  the  mountains  —  of  the  life-giving 
air  —  the  peace.  Yes,  she  must  grasp  the  op- 
portunity that  had  come  to  her.  It  might  mean 
a  restoration  of  the  lung  that  was  affected.  She 
was  doomed  unless  help  came  in  some  way. 
Work,  worry,  and  scanty  food  were  foes  to 
health. 

She  got  up  after  awhile  and  brought  an  old 
wooden  box  from  her  bedroom  closet.  It  was 


A  Surprise  189 

battered  and  worn,  the  lining  faded  and  stained, 
but  she  lifted  its  contents  tenderly  and  spread 
them  in  her  lap.  There  were  letters  tied  to- 
gether securely  —  notes  Henry  had  written  to  her 
during  their  brief  courtship;  a  photograph,  and 
two  or  three  odd  pieces  of  jewelry. 

Etta  Kirby  looked  at  them  one  by  one.  She 
touched  the  jewelry  wonderingry.  The  quaint 
earrings  and  the  old-fashioned  cameo  brooch  had 
been  found  pinned  in  her  dress  the  night  she  was 
taken  to  the  orphans'  home.  Where  they  came 
from,  to  whom  they  belonged,  she  never  knew; 
but  there  was  an  element  of  refinement  about 
them  that  clung  like  an  aroma.  They  testified 
in  a  mute,  indefinite  way  to  past  gentility. 

Etta  Kirby  liked  to  believe  that  they  were  her 
mother's.  It  gave  her  a  comfortable  feeling, 
pathetic  in  its  encouragement.  They  had  be- 
longed to  a  lady:  the  old  settings,  the  artistic  cut- 
ting of  the  stones  proved  that  beyond  a  doubt. 

"  But  why,  if  her  mother  could  afford  jewelry 
like  that  — " 

The  questions  that  so  often  troubled  her  began 
the  customary  round  in  her  tired  brain  and  she 
closed  her  eyes  wearily.  What  was  the  use  of 
trying  to  figure  out  the  mystery  of  her  being? 
There  was  one  chance  in  a  thousand  of  her  ever 
knowing  who  she  was,  or  where  she  came  from. 

She  opened  her  eyes  presently  and  took  up  the 


190  Only  Henrietta 

photograph.  The  evening  light  had  waned. 
She  could  not  see  the  face,  but  she  knew  every 
line  of  the  handsome,  boyish  features:  the  clear 
straightforward  eyes,  the  merry  mouth  with  its 
upturned  corners  and  strong,  defiant  chin. 

Tears  filled  her  eyes  and  strayed  down  to  the 
picture  in  her  hands.  How  she  had  loved  him! 
She  had  been  a  broken,  wretched  woman  from 
the  day  he  left.  Something  within  her  had  given 
way  —  the  mainspring,  she  thought.  But  for 
Henrietta  she  could  not  have  looked  into  the 
future.  .  .  . 

She  held  the  picture  for  a  long  time.  It 
slipped  from  her  hands  finally,  and  she  took  out 
the  letter  of  the  morning.  She  scarcely  glanced 
at  the  beginning,  her  eyes  strayed  on  down  the 
page  to  the  words  that  held  her.  "  Do  you  re- 
member the  old  evenings  in  the  cottage  by  the 
lake,  when  I  read  aloud  and  you  sewed  on  little 
baby  things?  Do  you  remember  a  poet  said, 
'  The  sins  we  commit  by  twos  and  threes  we  pay 
for  one  by  one?  I  have  paid  for  mine  —  one  by 
one,  truly !  In  the  long  nights,  too  tired  to  sleep; 
bending  over  railroad  ties  with  a  pick  and  shovel, 
my  back  throbbing  with  weariness  ...  or  when 
I  have  seen  a  little  child  clinging  to  the  hand  of 
its  father.  .  .  ." 

And  further  on. 

"  I  was  only  a  boy.     But  many  boys  have  the 


A  Surprise  191 

stuff  that  men  are  made  of  —  you  will  say. 
True,  only  ...  I  was  at  a  disadvantage. 
There  was  Aunt  Hester.  What  did  she  know  of 
motherhood,  boy  nature?  I  was  coddled,  pam- 
pered, given  a  free  rein,  only  to  be  jerked  back 
and  beaten  when  I  took  the  bit  in  my  mouth  and 
started  out  with  the  first  serious  intention  of  my 
life.  Poor  Aunt  Hester!  I  am  not  blaming 
her  —  I  only  pity.  To  go  through  the  years  ac- 
cumulating nothing  but  hate  —  to  go  down  to  the 
grave  holding  nothing  but  enmity!  At  least  I 
have  escaped  that.  ...  I  have  no  excuse  to  offer 
for  my  desertion  .  .  .  except  that  the  fruitless 
search  for  work  discouraged  me,  and  the  sight  of 
your  tired  face  night  after  night  shamed  my  man- 
hood. I  knew  that  if  I  told  you  I  was  going 
away  you  would  hold  me  back.  Your  love  knew 
no  defeat  ...  so  I  went  like  a  thief  in  the  night, 
without  a  word  of  good-by.  .  .  . 

"  I  shall  not  tell  you  of  the  long  hard  pull  to 
success.  It  has  not  come  yet  —  altogether,  but 
it  will.  Crosby  blood  fights  to  the  end.  .  .  . 
Please  use  the  money  I  am  sending.  ...  I  shall 
know  through  my  banker  whether  you  have  ac- 
cepted it.  .  .  ." 

And  near  the  end:  "Many  times  I  have 
turned  my  face  homeward,  with  what  longing  you 
will  never  know  .  .  .  because  you  have  had  the 
little  one  .  .  .  her  arms  have  been  about  your 


192  Only  Henrietta 

neck  .  .  .  her  caresses  have  comforted.  But  I 
could  not  make  the  start  .  .  .  pride  outweighed 
courage.  ...  I  did  not  dream  the  years  could 
be  so  fruitless  .  ,.  .  so  filled  with  disappoint- 
ment. 

"  I  do  not  know  where  you  are  .  .  .  whether 
the  years  have  been  kind  or  harsh.  If  you  and 
the  child  have  suffered,  my  punishment  will  be 
greater  than  I  can  bear.  .  .  ." 

The  letter  slipped  from  Etta  Kirby's  hand  and 
fell  with  the  picture  to  the  floor.  She  made  no 
move  to  get  them,  but  lay  back  in  the  chair,  list- 
less and  inert. 

The  moon  was  coming  up  over  the  edge  of  the 
bluff.  She  watched  it  wonderingly.  Was  it 
looking  down  on  him,  too  ?  Could  they  be  in  the 
same  world  and  yet  so  far  apart?  .  .  . 

She  sat  for  an  hour  or  more  thinking.  Then 
she  rose  and  turned  on  the  light  in  the  next  room 
so  that  Henrietta  might  not  be  frightened  when 
she  came  in  later. 

For  awhile  she  tried  to  sew,  but  her  fingers 
refused  to  take  the  stitches,  and  she  went  back  to 
the  chair  to  dream  and  doze. 

Henrietta  came  in  from  her  visit  a  little  late. 
She  hurried  into  the  parlor  to  explain  the  delay, 
but  paused  on  the  threshold. 

The  soft  light  from  the  next  room  fell  across 
the  limp  form  in  the  Morris  chair,  bringing  out 


SHE  TOOK  THE  PHOTOGRAPH  OUT  UNDER  THE  LIGHT  AND 
GAZED  AT  IT  CURIOUSLY  " 


A  Surprise  193 

every  line  of  the  thin  face.  Henrietta  almost 
held  her  breath  as  she  looked  at  her  mother, 
but  the  smile  on  the  lips  reassured  her. 

"  She's  dreaming,"  she  thought,  quietly  stoop- 
ing to  pick  up  a  photograph  that  lay  on  the  floor. 
"  She's  been  amusing  herself  going  over  those 
old  things  in  the  box.  Why,  who  is  this?  " 

She  took  the  photograph  out  under  the  light 
and  gazed  at  it  curiously.  "  My,  but  you're 
handsome,"  she  exclaimed  half  under  her 
breath.  "  I  like  your  eyes  and  your  jolly 
mouth  —  and  oh,  what  pretty  wavy  hair  1  " 

She  turned  the  picture  over  and  gave  a  start 
as  she  read  the  signature  "  Henry  to  Etta  — " 

Henry  to  Etta.  Henry!  why,  that  was  her 
father.  Her  father!  Her  blood  gave  a  wild 
leap  and  rushed  to  her  cheeks.  So!  that  was 
what  he  looked  like.  She  had  so  often  wanted 
to  know  — 

She  closed  the  door  between  herself  and  her 
mother  and  held  the  photograph  closer  to  the 
light. 

"  So  this  is  you,  is  it?  "  she  said,  as  if  the  living 
presence  were  in  the  room  with  her.  '  Well, 
I've  always  wanted  to  talk  to  you.  I've  lain 
awake  nights  thinking  up  what  I'd  say  if  I  ever 
had  the  chance.  I'm  going  to  tell  you  what  I 
think  of  you.  I  hate  you,  do  you  hear?  I  hate 
you!  I  always  have  hated  you  —  you  coward! 


194  Only  Henrietta 

Why  did  you  marry  my  mother  and  leave  her 
all  alone  in  the  world  to  —  to  make  the  living  by 
doing  hair  and  things  —  and  make  me  the  laugh- 
ing stock  of  all  the  girls?  Why  did  you,  I  say? 
You're  sorry,  are  you?  Well,  you  ought  to 
be—" 

She  drew  back  suddenly.  Something  in  the 
eyes  rebuked  her,  but  she  went  on: 

"  I  don't  care  if  you  do  look  at  me  like  that. 
You're  not  true  and  straight  if  your  eyes  do  say 
you  are.  You're  weak  and  selfish.  You've 
made  my  mother  suffer  until  she's  sick  and  worn 
out.  You're  —  why  do  you  look  at  me  like 
that!  It  makes  me  want  to  like  you  and  I  can't. 
/  can't!  I  won't!  You  just  see  if  I  do  1  I  can 
hate  as  much  as  I  can  love.  You're  not  my  fa- 
ther! Do  you  hear?  I  won't  have  you.  You 
just  see,  if  you  ever  try  to  come  back.  You  just 
see—" 

She  threw  the  picture  on  the  floor  and  set  her 
heel  upon  it.  Then  she  dropped  down  into  a 
chair  beside  the  table,  hid  her  face  in  her  arms 
and  broke  into  passionate  sobs. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

GOOD-BY   TO   OLD   SURROUNDINGS 

THE  next  week  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten 
by  Henrietta.  It  was  hurry  and  bustle  from 
morning  until  night  Contents  of  boxes  were 
emptied  into  old  trunks;  furniture  was  disposed 
of,  dishes  sold  to  the  second-hand  man,  bedding 
packed  and  stored. 

Henrietta  lent  a  hand  cheerfully,  and  perhaps 
there  was  never,  in  all  the  years  to  come,  a  more 
ecstatic  moment  than  when  the  old  Morris  chair 
and  the  battered  show  case  were  shoved  into  the 
second-hand  man's  wagon  and  driven  off  down 
the  street. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  was  just  about  to  begin  to  live, 
with  those  things  out  of  the  way,"  she  said  to  her 
mother  as  she  hastened  into  the  house.  "  I  hope 
the  show  case  has  left  my  sight  forever.  You 
don't  suppose  Mr.  Hunkins  will  put  it  out  on  the 
sidewalk  in  front  of  his  store,  do  you?  It  seems 
as  if  it  would  haunt  me  if  he  did.  I'd  feel  like  it 
was  saying,  '  Take  me  back,  take  me  back  to  the 
house  from  whence  I  came,'  and  we  might  be 
tempted.  Do  you  suppose  we  would  be?" 

"No:  I  am  through  with  it,  Henrietta." 

195 


196  Only  Henrietta 

"  And  the  vases  with  the  white  lilies !  I'm 
so  glad  you  let  them  go,  too.  They  never  fitted 
with  anything.  Isn't  it  funny  how  furniture  and 
things  have  a  way  of  speaking  to  you?" 

"  Speaking  to  you?  " 

"Yes;  haven't  you  seen  chairs  that  just  held 
out  their  arms  and  said,  '  Make  yourself  com- 
fortable ' —  and  others  that  shrank  away  as  if 
they  were  afraid  you  might  sit  on  them?  Mrs. 
Gates  has  that  kind  —  with  gold  legs !  I'd  al- 
most rather  have  our  old  Morris  chair  than  one 
with  gold  legs!  It's  more  honest.  And  I  feel 
the  same  way  about  houses.  Did  you  ever  no- 
tice how  that  little  peaked  roof  over  the  Lees' 
front  porch  frowns  at  you;  like  a  person  with 
eyebrows  running  up  to  a  point  in  the  middle? 
It  scowls." 

"  Your  imagination  runs  away  with  you  some- 
times, Henrietta." 

"  Maybe  it  does.  Mr.  Haswell  says  it's 
very  fertile.  I'm  glad  it  is.  Anything  that's 
fertile  isn't  dead  and  worn  out.  There  are  two 
things  that  I'm  always  going  to  try  to  keep  in 
good  condition  —  my  imagination  and  enthusi- 
asm. Mrs.  Lovell  says  that  enthusiasm  is  given 
to  us  in  trust.  That  we  must  use  it  as  an  inspira- 
tion to  others." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  enthusiasm?  " 

"  Why,  just  being  glad  about  things  and  show- 


Good-by  to  Old  Surroundings     197 

ing  it.  I  never  care  if  people  overdo  it  a  little  — 
rave  a  bit.  I  like  to  myself.  When  Nancy 
Dare  tells  me  I'm  beautiful  and  smart  and  inter- 
esting and  kind-hearted,  I  just  encourage  her  to 
go  on.  It  may  not  all  be  true,  of  course  —  but 
some  of  it  must  be." 

Mrs.  Kirby  bent  over  a  packing  case  to  hide  a 
smile. 

"  And  people,''  Henrietta  went  on,  "  say  things 
to  me  even  when  their  lips  are  shut  tight.  Take 
Mrs.  Gates.  She  says,  right  in  her  face  and 
hands  and  walk  —  I  belong  to  the  onion  and 
carrot  and  cabbage  family,  but  I  don't  want  any- 
body to  know  it." 

"  Why,  Henrietta !  " 

"  There's  nothing  wrong  in  that.  Lots  of 
people  like  cabbage,  and  onions,  too.  Now, 
Mrs.  Lovell  never  makes  me  think  of  vegetables. 
She  makes  me  think  of  beautiful  deep  red  roses 
and  conservatories  full  of  wonderful  flowers,  and 
summer  nights  with  the  moon  coming  up  full  over 
Austin's  Bluff,  and  music  that  begins  low  and 
sweet  and  swells  out  until  your  heart  just  stands 
still  and  then  aches  and  aches  — " 

"  Take  those  pots  and  kettles  off  the  hooks  be- 
hind the  stove  and  put  them  in  the  box  on  the 
back  porch,  Henrietta." 

"  In  just  a  minute.  And  you,  Mother.  Do 
you  know  what  you  make  me  think  of?  " 


198  Only  Henrietta 

"No;  I  don't." 

"  You  make  me  think  of  a  snow  drop  up  above 
timber  line  that  Mr.  Haswell  told  me  about 
once.  It  lives  and  blooms  up  there  in  the  cold, 
getting  thel>est  of  the  frosts  and  the  ice  and  the 
wind  —  just  like  you  have  hard  times  and  dis- 
couragements." 

Mrs.  Kirby  looked  at  her  daughter  with  the 
clear  sweet  eyes  of  a  child. 

"  That's  a  very  pretty  thought,  dearest.  I 
hope  I  may  prove  worthy  of  it.  Don't  forget  to 
wrap  the  kettles  in  newspapers  before  you  put 
them  in  the  box." 

"Oh,  Mother!  How  can  you  speak  of  ket- 
tles and  snow  drops  in  the  same  breath?  I'm 
afraid  you  haven't  any  poetry  in  you.  I've  no- 
ticed it  lots  of  times." 

"Have  you?" 

"Yes  —  you  mustn't  mind  my  saying  it,  will 
you,  because  of  course  poetry  isn't  everything, 
but  you  couldn't  have  lived  so  long  with  those 
vases,  if  you  had." 

"  I  don't  quite  see  the  connection  between  the 
vases  and  a  love  for  poetry,  Henrietta." 

"  I  don't  mean  a  love  of  poetry  —  I  guess  I 
can't  explain  just  what  I  do  mean,  but  you've  got 
to  have  something  in  you  that  feels  the  beauty  in 
things  —  or  makes  you  miserable  if  you  can't  feel 
it." 


Good-by  to  Old  Surroundings      199 

"  I've  never  had  much  time  to  cultivate  the 
beautiful." 

"  I  guess  you  don't  cultivate  it,  you're  born 
with  it.  I've  always  hated  ugly  things.  They 
make  me  sick." 

Mrs.  Kirby's  thoughts  kept  pace  with  her 
hands  as  she  filled  packing  cases  and  stored 
away  household  possessions.  Where  would 
Henrietta's  fine  taste  and  high  ambitions  lead  her? 
Perhaps  the  contact  with  Mrs.  Lovell,  and  the 
glimpse  into  the  fashionable,  luxurious  side  of 
life  was  not  a  good  thing,  after  all.  It  might 
plant  a  seed  of  discontent  —  make  Henrietta  un- 
happy in  the  long  run.  And  yet  —  Henrietta 
had  a  right  to  the  refinements. 

The  house  was  bare  at  last.  Mr.  Haswell, 
neighborly  as  always,  had  offered  to  nail  down 
boxes  and  help  lift  heavy  furniture.  Dr.  Hughes 
looked  in  on  his  way  to  the  hospital  to  wave  good- 
by  and  cast  an  eye  over  the  dismantled  cottage. 

"  There's  nothing  I  can  do  for  you,  I  pre- 
sume," he  remarked.  "  Mr.  Haswell  seems  to 
have  you  all  but  moved.  Well,  call  on  me  if 
you  need  me." 

"  You've  been  so  kind,"  Etta  Kirby  said. 
"  You'll  drive  up  to  the  Falls  some  Saturday  and 
bring  your  mother,  won't  you?  She's  promised 
us  several  week-ends.  We'll  have  plenty  of 
room." 


200  Only  Henrietta 

"  Yes,  we're  coming;  and  look  here,  girl," — 
this  to  Henrietta  — "  1  appoint  you  guardian 
over  your  mother.  She's  to  eat  four  good  meals 
a  day  and  sleep  out  doors  at  night.  Fix  her  bed 
up  under  a  tree  if  you  can't  do  any  better.  I 
want  the  pine  trees  to  talk  to  her." 

Henrietta  slipped  her  arm  through  the  doc- 
tor's tweed  sleeve  and  looked  up  into  his  face. 

"  You  will  come,  won't  you,  and  bring  Mrs. 
Hughes?" 

"  Surely  I  will." 

"Soon?" 

"  Very  soon."  His  eyes  did  not  meet  Hen- 
rietta's. They  were  fixed  on  Etta  Kirby. 
"  That  is  if  I'm  really  expected." 

Mrs.   Kirby  looked  up  quickly. 

"  There  could  be  no  doubt  about  that,"  she 
said,  and  a  rosy  flush  covered  her  face.  "  Hen- 
rietta will  be  quite  miserable  without  you." 

"Only  Henrietta?" 

"  I  shall  miss  your  mother.  I  wish  she  might 
give  us  a  couple  of  weeks." 

"  And  I'm  to  have  no  place  in  your  thoughts?  " 

"  Why  —  of  course  —  how  absurd  to  think 
that!  Don't  I  owe  my  life  to  you,  Doctor 
Hughes?" 

Mrs.  Kirby  looked  a  little  troubled  after  the 
doctor  left,  and  put  her  clothes  in  a  suit  case  ab- 
sent-mindedly. 


Good-by  to  Old  Surroundings     201 

"  I  guess  we're  about  ready  to  go  over  to  Min- 
nie's now,"  Henrietta  remarked.  "  It  was  so 
nice  of  them  to  ask  us  to  dinner,  wasn't  it?  Mrs. 
Lovell  said  to  be  ready  to  start  exactly  at  two. 
It  takes  three  hours  to  get  up  to  the  Falls  —  even 
if  you  go  pretty  fast.  Oh,  Mother,  does  it  seem 
to  you  that  we're  really  and  truly  going?  " 

"  It  seems  very  delightful,  dear." 
'Two  whole  months   of  vacation!     I'll  just 
run  over  and  say  good-by  to  Mrs.  McHenry.     I 
think  she's  going  to  miss  us  a  good  deal." 

She  was  out  of  the  house  and  through  the  back 
door  in  a  twinkling. 

Mrs.  Kirby  stood  for  a  moment  looking  about 
the  bare  rooms. 

The  house  was  old,  inconvenient,  unattractive, 
but  it  had  been  a  home  —  a  shelter.  The  floors 
still  echoed  with  Henrietta's  footsteps,  the  walls 
resounded  with  her  laughter.  The  sagging  win- 
dows the  battered  doors,  the  faded  wall-paper 
all  reflected  her  childhood. 

She  turned  away  reluctantly.  What  would  the 
future  hold?  A  new  cycle  stretched  ahead  un- 
certainly. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MRS.    LOVELL   MAKES   A   DISCOVERY 

HENRIETTA  wondered,  as  she  stood  on  the 
wide  veranda  encircling  Mrs.  Lovell's  charming 
cottage  a  few  hours  later,  if  anywhere,  in  all  the 
world,  there  was  a  more  beautiful  spot. 

"  It's  so  terribly  beautiful  that  it  makes  you 
want  to  cry,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Lovell,  who  was 
watching  her  face  with  interest. 

"  I  think  '  terribly  beautiful '  is  really  not 
bad,"  Mrs.  Lovell  replied,  lifting  her  eyes  to  the 
giant  Rockies.  "  Their  splendor  does  almost  ter- 
rify one.  I  have  often  thought  so  myself.  But 
let  us  go  inside.  You  have  all  summer  to  in- 
spect their  wonders,  Henrietta,  and  I,  but  half 
an  hour  in  which  to  show  you  my  household  treas- 


ures." 


She  turned  a  key  in  the  lock  of  the  strong 
weatherproof  front  door  and  threw  it  wide. 

Henrietta  gave  a  cry  of  delight  as  she  stepped 
over  the  threshold  and  viewed  the  long,  bright, 
living-room. 

"  Oh !  "  she  said,  clasping  her  hands  together. 

u  How  wonderful!     I  have  always  longed  to  see 

202 


Mrs.  Lovell  Makes  a  Discovery    203 

a  real  log  cabin  with  a  great  fireplace.  May 
we  have  a  fire  —  often?" 

Mrs.  Lovell  slipped  her  arm  through  Henri- 
etta's and  led  her  to  an  east  window. 

"  Do  you  see  those  logs,  my  dear?  They  are 
to  be  used  every  night.  You  will  find  it  pretty 
cold  up  here  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
Don't  be  afraid  to  use  them.  We  will  see  that 
you  are  plentifully  supplied  with  fuel." 

Henrietta's  heart  thumped  in  her  breast.  To 
think  of  being  plentifully  supplied  with  anything! 
It  was  a  new  experience. 

Mrs.  Lovell  took  Mrs.  Kirby  into  the  kitchen 
to  inspect  the  pantries  and  larder,  and  Henrietta 
had  the  big  room  to  herself. 

She  scarcely  knew  where  to  look  first.  There 
were  so  many  interesting  things :  huge  bear  skins 
on  the  walls;  elks'  heads  with  beautifully  curved 
horns;  bows  and  arrows;  Indian  clubs  and  other 
trophies. 

The  floors  were  covered  with  bright  Indian 
blankets.  Henrietta  stepped  over  them  care- 
fully. They  seemed  too  pretty  and  fine  to  walk 
on.  She  almost  wondered  how  Mrs.  Lovell 
could  use  them  for  carpets  —  but  rich  people 
were  often  careless. 

There  were  deep-seated,  cozily  cushioned 
wicker  chairs  drawn  up  to  the  fireplace,  and  cun- 
ning little  rustic  book  shelves  that  held  tempting 


204  Only  Henrietta 

fiction.  Henrietta  knew  it  was  fiction.  She  in- 
vestigated immediately. 

Mrs.  Lovell  came  into  the  room  while  she 
was  having  a  peep  and  exclaimed: 

"  Dear  me,  Henrietta,  I  intended  to  go  over 
those  books  before  you  came!  I  think  I  will 
now."  She  cast  an  appraising  eye  over  one  of 
the  cases  and  took  out  three  or  four  volumes. 

"  You  mean  that  you  don't  want  me  to  read 
them,  Mrs.  Lovell?" 

u  They  are  not  food  for  infants.  Light  fiction 
was  never  meant  for  children." 

"  But  I  wouldn't  touch  them  if  you  asked  me 
not  to." 

Mrs.  Lovell  glanced  into  the  clear  eyes  that 
met  her  own  and  put  the  books  back. 

"  Very  well,  I'll  trust  you,  Henrietta,"  she  said. 
"  Suppose  we  go  upstairs." 

They  crossed  the  long  room  and  went  up  the 
most  unusual  staircase  Henrietta  had  ever  seen. 
It  was  built  of  small  split  logs  and  willow 
branches  —  so  Mrs.  Lovell  said.  Henrietta 
could  scarcely  believe  that  the  banister  was 
wrought  of  dry  twisted  saplings.  At  the  head 
of  the  stairs  Mrs.  Lovell  paused  and  opened  a 
door. 

"  This  is  to  be  Henrietta's  room,"  she  said  to 
Mrs.  Kirby,  who  had  followed  softly.  "  I  always 
keep  it  ready  for  the  girls  who  visit  me.  Come 


Mrs.  Lovell  Makes  a  Discovery    205 

and  see  the  old  Green  Mountain  from  the  win- 
dow. I  love  the  view." 

Henrietta  gazed  entranced.  The  view  was 
superb,  but  she  couldn't  feast  her  eyes  long. 
The  room  itself  was  too  alluring. 

A  pink  and  white  rag  carpet  covered  the  floor, 
and  a  pink  rug  lay  beside  the  little  single  bed 
with  its  snowy  coverlet.  A  small  wicker  rocker 
with  a  pink  cushion  was  drawn  up  close  to  a 
table  on  which  lay  several  magazines.  Beside 
the  magazines  there  reposed  a  little  sewing  bas- 
ket equipped  with  needles,  thimble  and  thread; 
and  farther  on,  back  of  the  door,  snug  and 
cozy  stood  a  writing-desk  open  and  ready  for 
use. 

It  was  Mrs.  Kirby  who  spoke  first. 

"  I  believe  Henrietta  thinks  it's  all  a  dream 
and  that  she's  going  to  wake  up  in  a  minute." 

Mrs.  Lovell  laughed,  and  called  attention  to 
the  book  shelf  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"  See  if  your  favorites  are  here,  Henrietta?  " 
she  said. 

Henrietta  reached  the  shelf  in  a  trance,  but  she 
came  out  of  it  long  enough  to  discover  three  or 
four  volumes  of  Stevenson  and  Kipling.  , 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Lovell!"  was  all  she  could  say. 
"  I'm  so  happy  that  it  just  seems  as  if  I  never 
would  live  to  enjoy  it  all.  It's  too  much  at  one 
time.  I  feel  just  like  I  do  when  Doctor  Hughes 


206  Only  Henrietta 

brings  me  a  box  of  chocolates.  Mother  puts 
half  away  for  another  time." 

"  Perhaps  we'd  better  not  look  in  the  closet 
then.  I  have  kept  the  best  surprise  for  the  last." 

"  Oh,  yes,  let's  look.     I  couldn't  bear  to  wait." 

Mrs.  Lovell  drew  back  the  curtain  of  the  tiny 
box-like  aperture  and  threw  some  clothing  over 
her  arm. 

"  I  hope  these  will  fit,"  she  said  to  Henrietta, 
who  beheld  "with  amazed  eyes.  "  And  Mother 
mustn't  mind  my  making  a  boy  of  you  for  the 
summer.  It's  the  only  costume  for  the  moun- 
tains, especially  if  you  have  a  pony." 

"A  pony!"  Henrietta  thought  her  heart 
was  going  to  stop  beating. 

"  Yes;  I'm  going  to  let  you  have  '  Fashion  *  all 
to  yourself.  Only  you  must  be  good  to  her.  Do 
you  think  you  can  take  care  of  her?  She  must  be 
fed  regularly,  and  groomed  each  day." 

"  Would  you  trust  me?  "  Henrietta  stammered 
— "  and  tell  me  how?  " 

"Yes;  Judkins  will  leave  written  instructions, 
and  you  must  carry  them  out  to  the  letter.  One 
over-feeding  might  make  '  Fashion  '  ill  for  the 
whole  summer.  You  must  remember  that." 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  forget,  or  do  anything  you 
wouldn't  want  me  to  do  for  the  world.  Could 
J  ride  her  up  on  the  mountains?  " 

"  Yes,    Fashion's    a    famous    climber.     I    feel 


Mrs.  Lovell  Makes  a  Discovery    207 

quite  safe  in  leaving  her  with  you.  Suppose  you 
take  these  riding  clothes  and  run  into  the  next 
room  and  put  them  on.  I  want  to  see  how  they 
fit." 

Henrietta  took  the  things  from  Mrs.  Lovell's 
arms  and  disappeared  with  shining  eyes. 

She  came  down  the  steps  lightly  a  few  minutes 
later  and  joined  Mrs.  Lovell  in  the  living-room. 
Mrs.  Kirby  was  in  the  yard  conferring  with  Jud- 
kins. 

Mrs.  Lovell  glanced  up  expectantly.  The 
vision  that  met  her  eyes  evidently  pleased  her,  for 
she  smiled  delightedly. 

And  well  she  might.  Henrietta  in  the  smart 
riding  costume  was  a  joyous  sight  to  look  upon. 
Trim  and  straight  limbed  as  a  boy  she  stood,  her 
blue  eyes  brimming  with  laughter. 

"  Why  —  why  —  don't  you  like  me,  Mrs. 
Lovell?  Haven't  I  got  them  on  right  —  what's 
the  matter?" 

Henrietta  put  the  questions  quickly,  for  Mrs. 
Lovell  had  leaned  forward  in  her  chair  and 
was  looking  at  her  with  surprised,  wondering 
eyes. 

'Yes;  you're  very  smart  and  fine  in  them, 
Henrietta;  but  you  look  so  like  a  boy  with  your 
hair  coiled  under  the  sombrero.  I  can't  quite 
get  used  to  the  change.  Come  here,  dear,  closer. 
Smile  at  me  —  slowly ." 


208  Only  Henrietta 

The  corners  of  Henrietta's  mouth  went  up 
quickly,  and  her  white  teeth  flashed  between 
crimson  lips. 

"  I  can't,  slowly,  Mrs.  Lovell.  I  never  can. 
Why  do  you  want  me  to  smile  slowly?  " 

"  Because  —  no  matter,  Henrietta.  You 
make  me  think  of  some  one  I  knew  years  ago  — 
a  boy.  He  was  a  very  dear  friend.  We  grew 
up  together  —  like  brother  and  sister.  Our  back 
yards  joined.  How  old  are  you  —  now?  " 

"  I'm  almost  fourteen,  Mrs.  Lovell.  Four- 
teen in  October." 

"  Yes  —  fourteen,  so  you  are." 

"  Is  the  boy  —  dead?  It  seems  to  make  you 
feel  sad  to  think  of  him." 

"  I  don't  know.  Do  you  want  to  keep  the 
suit  on?  I  wish  you  would  for  awhile  —  until  I 

go." 

"  Because  I  make  you  think  of  him?  "  Henri- 
etta asked  a  trifle  jealously. 

"  Because  they  are  very  becoming  —  and  I  like 
to  think  how  happy  you'll  be  in  them." 

Henrietta  looked  down  at  the  neat  khaki 
trousers  that  bagged  above  the  leather  leggings: 
at  the  comfortable  Norfolk  jacket  and  warm  flan- 
nel shirt. 

"  I  feel  exactly  like  Cinderella  must  have  felt 
just  before  the  clock  struck  twelve,"  she  said, 
wistfully.  "  It's  just  like  a  fairy  story  exactly, 


Mrs.  Lovell  Makes  a  Discovery    209 

Mrs.  Lovell.  I  don't  know  how  I'll  ever  go  back 
to  town  again  after  all  this." 

"  You'll  be  very  glad  to  go  back,  I  suspect, 
when  the  time  comes.  You'll  be  ready  for  a 
change  at  the  end  of  the  season.  You  must  in- 
vite Minnie  up  for  awhile,  so  that  you  won't  be 
lonely.  There's  plenty  of  room  in  the  house." 

"Oh,  could  I?  Min's  been  so  good  to  me. 
And  so  has  her  aunt." 

"  By  all  means.  This  is  your  play  time,  Hen- 
rietta. Make  the  best  of  it.  Turn  around 
slowly,  dear,  will  you  please?  —  I  want  to  look 
at  you.  There  —  so  —  Oh,  how  like  him  you 
are  —  so  very  like." 

Mrs.  Lovell  took  her  departure  after  awhile, 
and  Henrietta  and  her  mother  went  over  the 
house  together. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Mother,  you  seem  so 
quiet?  Don't  you  like  the  house?"  Henrietta 
asked. 

"  Yes,  dearest.  It's  all  very  beautiful.  Are 
you  going  to  keep  those  clothes  on?  Hadn't  you 
better  change?  " 

"  Don't  you  like  them?  " 

Etta  Kirby  avoided  the  questioning  eyes. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  do.  Do  you  think 
they're  immodest?" 

"No;  they  are  very  suitable  for  the  moun- 
tains." 


210  Only  Henrietta 

"  Do  I  make  you  think  of  anybody  in  them?  " 

Mrs.  Kirby  turned  about  quickly. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  that?  " 

"I  did  — Mrs.  Lovell." 

"Did  what?" 

"  Make  her  think  of  somebody;  a  boy  she  used 
to  live  by.  She  said  he  was  just  like  a  brother 
to  her." 

"  And  was  she  nice  to  you  after  she  said  that? 
As  nice  as  ever?  "  the  tones  were  eager. 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course.  She  turned  me  round 
and  round;  and  then  she  kissed  me  on  the  fore- 
head as  if  her  thoughts  were  away  off.  Did 
you  know  him,  too,  this  boy?  Do  I  look  like 
him?" 

Mrs.  Kirby  changed  the  subject  abruptly.  "  I 
think  we'd  better  unpack  and  get  a  bite  of  supper 
before  dark.  Don't  you?  Suppose  you  get 
some  wood  and  lay  it  in  the  fireplace.  We'll 
brown  our  toast  over  the  coals  when  they  get 
low." 

"All  right!  But  I  think  I  will  change  my 
clothes.  I  don't  want  to  get  these  soiled  before 
I've  had  a  chance  to  wear  them.  Aren't  they  just 
too  dear?  They're  like  Mary  Helen  Brad- 
ford's. I'll  take  the  suitcases  upstairs  and  have 
a  look  at  your  room  and  then  fix  up  the  fire. 
What  will  you  do?  " 

"  Rest  a  minute,  dear." 


Mrs.  Lovell  Makes  a  Discovery    211 

"  Then  I'll  make  the  fire  first." 

It  was  soon  aglow.  Henrietta  pulled  one  of 
the  deep  chairs  closer  to  its  cheer,  and  Etta  Kirby 
sank  down  wearily. 

So  it  had  come  at  last.  Mrs.  Lovell  knew  that 
Henry  Crosby  was  Henrietta's  father.  Would 
it  make  any  difference  in  her  friendship;  or  would 
her  old  regard  for  Henry  but  draw  his  child 
closer?  Time  alone  would  tell.  There  was  no 
use  worrying.  Perhaps,  after  all,  she  had  not 
really  sensed  the  connection. 

Henrietta's  voice  calling  from  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  interrupted  her  thoughts. 

"  Mother,  isn't  your  room  a  dream !  Shall  I 
put  your  things  away  in  the  drawers,  or  do  you 
want  to  do  it  yourself?  " 

"  I  will  put  them  away,  Henrietta.  Attend 
to  your  own." 

"All  right;  but,  Mother,  do  come  up  and  see 
this  love  of  a  bathroom.  And  the  guest  rooms 
with  the  white  ruffly  curtains:  Two  guest  rooms, 
if  you  please!  I'm  going  to  give  a  slumber 
party  some  night  and  leave  out  Lucy  Gates  like 
she  did  me.  Mr.  Haswell  would  bring  the  girls 
up,  I'm  sure." 

"  Don't  plan  a  good  time  with  a  disagreeable 
motive  back  of  it,  Henrietta.  It  doesn't  pay." 

"All  right;  but  I  won't  ask  her/" 

She  came  downstairs  presently  and  stretched 


212  Only  Henrietta 

herself  on  the  white  bear  skin  in  front  of  the  fire. 

"  Oh,  but  this  is  heavenly,"  she  said.  "  I 
doubt  if  paradise  could  be  much  better.  Mother, 
did  you  know  there  are  some  beds  round  on  the 
south  porch  with  the  softest  woolly  blankets? 
One  of  the  pine  trees  grows  right  up  through  the 
roof." 

"  Yes;  I  noticed  the  beds." 

"And  isn't  this  room  wonderful?  Did  Mrs. 
Lovell  tell  you?  That  library  table  is  a  dining 
table,  too.  You  just  take  off  the  Indian  blanket 
and  put  on  a  tablecloth  and  you're  all  ready  to 
eat.  It's  handy,  too,  being  so  near  the  kitchen." 

"  Everything  is  very  convenient." 

"  I  should  say  it  was !  Mother,  the  table- 
cloths are  all  white!  I  looked  in  the  drawer. 
If  you'll  use  'em  I'll  do  them  up  all  the  time. 
I'm  sure  I  could." 

"  All  right,  dear." 

14  And  we'll  keep  flowers  on  the  table.  I'll 
gather  them  every  morning,  fresh." 

She  got  up,  and  coming  softly  to  her  mother's 
side  knelt  down  beside  her. 

"  I  just  know  you're  going  to  get  strong  up 
here  this  summer.  I'm  going  to  take  wonderful 
care  of  you.  You're  to  sleep  and  rest  and  eat  all 
the  time  —  and  ride  Fashion,  too.  Mother ! 
Think  of  having  a  pony  and  a  bedroom  all  to 
myself  and  —  and  white  tablecloths !  It  seems 


Mrs.  Lovell  Makes  a  Discovery    213 

too  good  to  have  really  happened  to  us,  doesn't 
it?" 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  mother's  lap. 
When  she  raised  it,  tears  shone  on  her  flushed 
cheeks. 

That  night  Henrietta  wrote : 

"  June  1 5th.     19 — 

"  Well,  we  are  here  at  last.  It  is  simply  won- 
derful. The  cottage  is  a  perfect  dream.  It 
looks  like  this,  with  pine  trees  all  around  it. 


There  is  a  long  living-room  that  goes  clear  across 
the  house,  with  a  big  fireplace,  a  wide  couch,  lots 
of  books  and  a  piano.  Mrs.  Lovell  said  that  I 
might  have  a  house  party  some  time  and  that 
when  the  girls  came  we  could  take  up  the  rugs 


214  Only  Henrietta 

and  dance.  Oh,  dear,  life  seems  too  beautiful  to 
last.  I'm  almost  sure  I'm  going  to  wake  up  and 
find  it's  all  a  dream.  Imagine  me  having  a  house 
party !  If  any  one  had  told  me  that  I  should  ever 
open  my  doors  to  my  friends  in  regular  hospi- 
tality 1  should  have  said  they  were  crazy.  Truly, 
we  know  not  the  day  nor  the  hour  when  our  luck 
turneth.  Or  what  watcheth  for  us  just  around 
the  corner.  There  will  be  but  one  thing  lacking. 
I  shall  not  be  able  to  serve  afternoon  tea  with  a 
maid  as  Nancy  Dare  does;  but  I  can  carry  the 
tray  out  under  the  trees  and  pretend  that  it  is  a 
sort  of  picnic.  I  do  not  believe  that  maids  serve 
at  a  picnic,  though  I  do  not  know.  At  the 
Dares'  the  maid  wears  a  black  dress  and  a  white 
cap  and  apron  and  wheels  the  tea  things  in  on  a 
little  wagon.  She  stops  in  front  of  Nancy  and 
says,  'Anything  else,  Miss  Nancy?'  and  Nancy 
sniffs  around  and  says,  '  If  there  is,  Marie,  I  will 
call  you.  Remain  near.'  The  Dares  have  a 
beautiful  home.  It  is  not  furnished  very  artis- 
tically, but  expensively. 

"  Something  very  queer  happened  this  after- 
noon a  little  while  after  we  arrived.  Mrs. 
Lovell  gave  me  a  riding  costume  and  told  me  to 
try  it  on  so  that  she  could  see  how  it  looked.  I 
did  so,  and  when  she  got  a  good  look  at  me  she 
began  to  open  her  eyes  with  great  surprise  and 
grow  a  little  pale.  It  was  very  romantic.  She 


Mrs.  Lovell  Makes  a  Discovery    215 

exclaimed  that  I  looked  exactly  like  a  boy  she 
had  known  in  her  youth.  I  am  very  sure  from 
the  way  she  looked  and  her  agitation  that  it  was 
an  old  lover,  for  she  drew  me  to  her  and  silently 
kissed  me  on  the  forehead  —  very  reverently.  I 
am  not  surprised.  I  never  thought  her  marriage 
to  the  Judge  was  caused  by  love  but  more  by  re- 
spect. He  is  a  very  fine  man,  but  not  the  type 
of  one's  dreams  exactly,  being  tall  and  stooped 
with  kind  eyes  and  a  very  large  nose.  Of  course 
the  nose  is  a  mark  of  intellect.  I  know  that. 
But  for  myself  I  should  prefer  less  intellect  and 
a  more  patrician  cut.  Though  I  suppose  after 
you  are  married  it  doesn't  matter  much  one  way 
or  the  other. 

"  I  can  hardly  decide  where  to  sleep  to-night 
—  down  on  the  veranda  with  mother  under  the 
tree  that  grows  up  through  the  roof,  or  in  this 
darling  bed  in  my  own  room.  Think  I  can 
hardly  get  away  from  the  room." 


CHAPTER  XV 

AN   UNEXPECTED   GUEST 

MRS.  KIRBY  and  Henrietta  had  been  at  Wild- 
wood  cottage  nearly  ten  days  when  a  visitor  ap- 
peared unexpectedly. 

It  was  Henrietta  who  opened  the  door  and 
stepped  back  surprised. 

u  Is  this  Mrs.  Lovell's  cottage,  and  is  Mrs. 
Kirby  in?"  the  stranger  asked. 

"  Why,  yes,"  Henrietta  stammered.  Then 
she  went  back  in  the  kitchen  to  find  her  mother 
and  left  the  young  man  standing  with  cap  in  hand. 

"  There's  the  best  looking  boy  at  the  front 
door,  and  he  wants  to  see  you,"  she  said. 

"A  boy?" 

"  Yes  —  a  grown  up  boy." 

"  Did  you  ask  him  in?  " 

"Yes  —  he's  waiting." 

Mrs.  Kirby  hurried  into  the  living-room.  A 
young  man  rose  from  a  chair  and,  taking  a  letter 
from  his  coat  pocket,  handed  it  to  her.  She 
broke  the  seal  hastily.  The  note  read : 

"Dear  Mrs.  Kirby : 

"  This  will  serve  to  introduce  to  you  Rich- 

216 


An  Unexpected  Guest  217 

ard  Bently,  the  son  of  one  of  my  oldest  and 
dearest  friends  in  the  East.  It  grieves  me 
very  much  to  have  him  arrive  on  the  eve  of 
my  departure  for  California,  but  he  has  come 
West  for  the  benefits  of  climate  rather  than  my 
society,  so  the  loss  is  more  mine  than  his.  It 
occurred  to  me  that  since  Richard  is  hunting 
for  a  place  in  the  mountains  where  he  can 
rough  it  for  the  summer,  you  might  take  him 
in.  I  am  sure  that  you  would  find  him  little 
trouble  and  most  companionable.  He  would 
gladly  pay  you  ten  dollars  a  week  for  board 
and  room.  If  you  can  manage  this  without 
too  much  extra  work,  I  should  greatly  appre- 
ciate the  favor. 

"  Sincerely, 

"  MARGARET  LOVELL." 

Mrs.  Kirby  extended  a  cordial  hand  to  the 
lad. 

"  A  friend  of  Mrs.  Lovell's  is  more  than  wel- 
come," she  said.  "  But  we  live  very  simply. 
Perhaps  you  would  prefer  having  a  room  here, 
and  your  meals  at  the  hotel." 

"  I'd  much  rather  have  my  meals  here,"  the 
boy  replied  with  a  quick  smile.  "  I  will  promise 
not  to  be  fussy." 

'Very  well.  When  would  you  like  to 
come?" 


218  Only  Henrietta 

"  Right  now,  if  you  don't  mind.  In  fact  I 
trusted  to  your  hospitality  and  had  my  luggage 
sent  up.  Please  don't  let  me  bother  you.  I 
shall  be  out  tramping  in  the  woods  most  of  the 
day.  Is  this  Henrietta?  Mrs.  Lovell  said  that 
she  would  initiate  me  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
Rockies." 

Henrietta  smiled  a  welcome  and  extended  her 
hand  timidly. 

"  I'd  love  to,"  she  said.  "  We've  only  been 
here  ten  days,  but  I'm  beginning  to  know  the 
prettiest  places.  The  Falls  are  wonderful." 

"  So  I've  heard." 

"This  is  your  first  visit  to  Colorado?"  Mrs. 
Kirby  inquired. 

"  Yes;  I'm  a  tenderfoot." 

"  You  won't  be,  long." 

"  No  —  I'm  anxious  to  get  to  the  top  of  that 
Green  bird  out  there."  He  pointed  jerkily 
toward  the  mountain.  "  Maybe  I  could  do  it 
before  lunch." 

Mrs.  Kirby  and  Henrietta  exchanged  amused 
glances. 

"  I  don't  believe  you'd  better  try  it  before 
lunch.  It's  farther  than  you  think." 

"Is  it  really?     It  looks  but  a  step." 

"  The  rare,  clear  atmosphere  makes  distances 
deceiving,"  Henrietta  volunteered  wisely. 
"  Down  at  Good  Springs  they  tell  a  story  of  a 


An  Unexpected  Guest  219 

man  who  started  with  a  friend  to  go  up  to  Pike's 
Peak  before  breakfast.  They  walked  and  walked 
and  walked,  and  at  noon  they  seemed  no  nearer 
than  when  they  started.  Finally  they  came  to  an 
irrigation  ditch  and  one  of  the  men  sat  down  and 
began  taking  off  his  shoes  and  stockings.  You 
see,  he  didn't  know  how  wide  it  would  be,  before 
he  got  across  — " 

Richard  laughed  softly. 

"  It's  like  that.  You  can't  tell  anything  about 
roads  or  distances." 

"  Which  makes  them  all  the  more  fascinating 
Mrs.  Lovell  said  you  had  a  saddle  horse  up  here. 
Would  there  be  room  for  another?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  There  are  several  stalls  in  the 
barn." 

"  I'll  have  to  find  a  pony." 

"  They  have  very  good  ones  at  the  livery  stable. 
It's  near  the  hotel." 

"  Thanks.  I'll  have  to  look  this  afternoon. 
Hello,  here's  my  stuff  now." 

Mrs.  Kirby  led  the  way  to  the  left  wiftg  of  the 
house.  She  paused  midway  of  the  hall. 

"  I'm  just  wondering  if  you  wouldn't  prefer  the 
cabin  in  the  yard,"  she  said  hesitatingly.  "  I'll 
show  you  the  guest  room  first,  and  then  you  may 
take  your  choice." 

The  cabin  appealed  instantly. 

"  I  say,  this  is  great!     What  a  r^lly  fireplace! 


220  Only  Henrietta 

You're  sure  you  can  spare  all  this  room  for  one 
lone  fellow." 

"  We're  not  using  it  at  all.  It  belongs  to  Judge 
Lovell  exclusively  when  he  is  up  here." 

"  Bully  for  the  Judge !  He  knows  a  good  thing 
when  he  sees  it.  Jove,  what  a  view !  I  must 
do  that  old  Green  chap  in  color.  He's  a  peach." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  can  paint?  "  Henrietta 
asked,  delighted. 

"  I  make  a  stab  at  it." 

"  I've  always  wanted  to.  I  can  draw  a  little 
—  just  faces  and  things.  The  girls  at  school 
say  they  look  like  folks,  though.  It's  fun,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Great  1     Ever  try  water  colors  ?  " 

11  No." 

"  You'll  have  to  use  mine." 

"  Could  I?     Do  you  really  mean  it?  " 

"Sure,  Idol" 

There  was  something  contagious  in  the  pleas- 
ant, friendly  smile,  the  frank  gray  eyes.  Henri- 
etta took  Richard  Bently  on  faith  immediately. 

"  I  like  him,  don't  you,  Mother,"  she  said  when 
they  left  the  cabin  and  went  back  to  the  house. 
"  But  I  don't  think  he's  very  strong,  for  all  he's 
so  tall,  and  nice  looking." 

Henrietta  busied  herself  about  the  house.  She 
had  become  very  much  interested  in  dusting  and 
the  general  care  of  the  cottage.  She  saved  her 


An  Unexpected  Guest  221 

mother  every  step  possible,  and  even  tried  her 
hand  at  the  cooking. 

She  was  putting  the  finishing  touches  on  her 
morning's  labors  when  a  cheerful  voice  in  the  door- 
way startled  her. 

"  Wonder  if  I  could  borrow  a  hammer  and 
some  tacks,"  the  new  boarder  asked. 

"  Certainly.     I'll  get  them  for  you." 

"  And  maybe  you'd  come  over  to  the  cabin  and 
give  me  some  expert  advice  on  putting  up  photo- 
graphs and  pennants.  I'm  going  to  be  settled  for 
life  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  Why,  yes,  I  guess  I  could.  I  haven't  had 
much  experience  with  boy's  things.  You  see, 
there's  only  one  of  me.  I  haven't  any  brothers." 

"  You're  in  luck.  They're  a  beastly  nuisance. 
That's  what  my  sisters  think,  especially  the  older 
ones." 

"  Have  you  sisters  ?  How  lovely  that  must  be ! 
It's  dreadful  to  be  an  only  child.  You  get  so 
lonesome." 

Henrietta  was  following  him  out  to  the  cabin, 
which  was  but  a  few  steps  from  the  cottage.  He 
turned  to  smile  at  her  good-naturedly. 

"  Yes;  and  they're  always  so  spoilt." 

"Are  they?     Well,  I'm  not!" 

"  I'll  ask  your  mother." 

"  Mother  will  tell  you  the  same  thing." 

"  The  cabin  looked  very  much  as  if  a  cyclone 


222  Only  Henrietta 

had  struck  it,  when  she  entered,"  so  Henrietta  told 
her  mother  later.  The  contents  from  two 
steamer  trunks  had  been  dumped  on  the  floor. 
Trousers,  coats,  shirts  and  sweaters  were  heaped 
in  confusion. 

"Oh,  my!"  Henrietta  exclaimed.  "You're 
things  will  be  in  an  awful  muss.  And  you  can't 
get  them  pressed  up  here,  either.  That  is,  unless 
you  do  it  yourself." 

"  It  wouldn't  be  the  first  time,"  the  boy  assured 
her.  "  Now  where  would  you  suggest  I  hang  old 
Harvard.  Here,  at  the  foot  of  my  bed?  "  He 
extricated  a  crimson  pennant  from  a  pile  of  wear- 
ing apparel. 

"  Do  you  go  to  Harvard?  " 

"  I  surely  do." 

"How  splendid!  What  are  you  going  to 
be?" 

A  roguish  smile  met  Henrietta's  eyes. 

"  Well,  now,  that's  a  tall  question.  There  are 
three  things  I'd  like  to  train  for,  but  my  old  man 
—  the  governor,  you  know,  isn't  crazy  about  any 
of  them." 

"What  are  they?" 

Richard  took  a  tack  from  his  mouth  and  in- 
serted it  in  old  Harvard  before  replying. 

"  Well,  there's  art,  and  music  — "  He 
stopped  hammering  and  looked  down  at  Henri- 
etta from  hi?  perch  on  a  stool.  "  'Spose  you  can't 


An  Unexpected  Guest  223 

imagine  a  fellow  wanting  to  beat  up  a  piano,  can 
you?  Not  if  he's  got  good  red  blood  in  his 
veins?  " 

"  Why,  yes  —  why  not?  " 

"  It's  a  woman's  game  —  usually." 

"And  art  —  doesn't  he  like  that  either?" 

"  Not  so  you  could  notice  it." 

"  What's  the  other?  You  said  there  were 
three." 

"  Architecture." 

"  That's  almost  art,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Sort  of  a  first  cousin." 

"  Wouldn't  that  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  I  guess  it's  got  to." 

"  I  think  parents  ought  to  let  children  be 
whatever  they  want  and  have  talent  for,"  Henri- 
etta declared.  "  I'm  sure  Mother  would  let  me 
be  an  actress  if  she  thought  my  heart  was  set  on  it. 
But  I  can't  decide.  Maybe  I'll  teach  languages. 
Why  don't  you  hang  that  other  pennant  over  the 
bureau?  Don't  you  think  it  would  look  well 
there?  It's  Vermont,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Yes,  the  State  University." 

"  Are  you  from  Vermont?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  I  thought  so.  You  do  such  funny  things  to 
your  r's.  So  does  Mrs.  Lovell.  Do  you  mind  if 
I  hang  your  clothes  up  in  the  closet?  It  makes 
me  nervous  to  see  them  so  rumpled,  Mr. ,  I 


224  Only  Henrietta 

didn't  quite  understand  what  your  name  was." 

"  Richard  Bently.  Cut  out  the  Richard, 
though,  please.  Make  it  Dick.  That's  what  I 
get  at  home.  You  mustn't  stand  on  ceremony  if 
we're  to  be  pals  this  summer." 

"  Who  said  we  were  to  be?  " 

"  I  did." 

"Oh,  you  did!" 

"  You  refuse  to  be  my  guide,  then?  " 

"No;  not  exactly.  I'd  do  anything  in  the 
world  for  Mrs.  Lovell.  She's  the  best  friend  I 
have  in  Good  Springs.  But  I'm  going  to  be 
pretty  busy  after  awhile.  Two  of  my  girl  friends 
are  coming  up  for  a  week,  and  maybe  some  of  the 
boys  we  knew  at  school  —  at  least  /  think  the  boys 
will.  Van  Dyne  Walcott's  family  have  a  cottage 
here  somewhere,  so  have  the  Hartleys." 

"  So  I'm  to  have  a  rival.  Which  is  it  —  the 
•one  with  the  tassel  on  his  name?  " 

"You  mean  Van  Dyne?" 

"  That's  the  boy." 

A  rosy  glow  covered  Henrietta's  face.  Then 
she  laughed.  Dick  laughed,  too. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Henrietta?  "  he  asked. 

"  How  old  do  you  'spose?  " 

"Sixteen?" 

"  Well  —  not  quite.     How  old  are  you?  " 

"  How  old  do  you  'spose?  " 

"Twenty?" 


An  Unexpected  Guest  225 

"Well  —  not  quite."  They  laughed  again; 
the  fresh  laugh  of  youth  and  good  spirits. 

Henrietta  helped  until  the  room  held  a  sem- 
blance of  neatness;  then  she  excused  herself. 

"  I'd  love  to  stay  and  help  with  the  photo- 
graphs, but  I  haven't  finished  my  work  yet. 
Mother  isn't  very  strong,  and  I  try  to  save  her  all 
I  can." 

Dick  followed  her  to  the  cottage  steps. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  a  dreadful  nuisance,"  he  said. 
"  A  fellow  with  a  lot  of  sisters  always  is. 
They're  too  good  to  him.  Maybe  you'll  let  me 
help  you  some  time.  I'm  a  dandy  little  dish- 
wiper." 

Henrietta  glanced  at  the  brown,  slender  hands, 
the  clear-cut  aristocratic  face,  and  pondered. 

"  Don't  you  believe  it?  " 

"No;  I  don't." 

"  You  should  have  seen  me  last  summer  up  in 
the  Adirondacks.  Bounder  and  I  always  did  the 
dishes.  He  washed  —  and  I  put  them  away." 

"Who's  Bounder?" 

A  smile  wreathed  Dick's  lips. 

"  Bounder's  a  prize  bull  terrier.  Wait  till  you 
see  him.  He's  down  at  the  Lovells'  waiting  for 
me  to  get  located." 

Henrietta's  lips  pouted. 
'  The  idea  —  a  dog  —  doing  dishes !  " 
You  don't  know  Bounder.     He  can  polish  to 


.. 


226  Only  Henrietta 

beat  the  band.     What  time  do  you  have  dinner?  " 

"  About  six.  But  you  needn't  hurry  if  you  are 
out  tramping.  We  don't  keep  regular  hours." 

"  All  right.  And  don't  expect  me  to  lunch.  I 
shall  be  out  of  your  way  all  day." 

He  turned  toward  his  cabin  and  Henrietta 
went  into  the  house. 

She  finished  the  morning's  work  and  set  the 
table  for  dinner.  Henrietta  adored  setting  the 
table.  The  linen  was  so  fine;  the  silver  so  bright. 

When  she  had  filled  the  vases  with  fresh  flow- 
ers and  given  the  furniture  an  extra  polish  she 
went  upstairs  to  straighten  her  own  little  room. 
She  had  never  slept  out  of  the  dainty  bed  for  a 
night  yet.  She  often  wondered  if  she  ever  would. 

The  room  was  very  neat  when  she  left  it  to 
saunter  down  to  the  veranda,  book  in  hand. 

Mrs.  Kirby  was  comfortably  ensconced  in  one  of 
the  deep  porch  chairs  basking  in  the  afternoon 
sun.  She  looked  so  happy  and  content  that  Hen- 
rietta stooped  to  give  her  a  kiss  and  smooth  the 
pretty  black  hair  away  from  the  pale  forehead. 

"  You're  just  heaps  better,  aren't  you,  dear- 
est?" she  said,  cheerfully.  "I  think  you  must 
have  gained  a  pound  or  two  in  these  ten  days." 

"  I  believe  I  have,  Henrietta.  I  thought  this 
morning  that  my  waistbands  were  a  little  tight. 
How  did  you  like  the  young  man?  Did  he  get 
settled?" 


An  Unexpected  Guest  227 

"  Oh,  Mother,  such  a  muss !  You  should  have 
seen  his  coats  and  sweaters  and  trousers  all  in  a 
heap.  I  bet  he's  just  spoiled  to  death.  He  has 
four  sisters.  He  showed  me  their  pictures. 
They're  perfectly  stunning;  especially  the  one  my 
age.  He  calls  her  Fluffy  Ruffles  because  she  likes 
clothes;  pretty  ones.  He  thinks  I'm  sixteen.  I 
let  him  think  so." 

"Why,  Henrietta?" 

"  Oh,  fourteen  is  so  —  unimportant.  I've  de- 
cided to  put  my  hair  up.  All  the  girls  do. 
Nancy  has  done  hers  up  for  a  year." 

"  But  Nancy  is  sixteen." 

"  So  is  Min." 

"  That's  so,  dear.  But  don't  hurry  the  years. 
They  fly  fast  enough." 

"  It  isn't  hurrying  them  to  put  your  hair  up, 
is  it?  " 

"  Yes;  it  takes  away  my  little  girl  —  makes  her 
grown  up." 

"  But,  Mother,  it  looks  so  silly  braided  down 
my  back.  I'm  so  big  for  my  age.  Everybody 
thinks  I'm  older  —  please  let  me." 

"  I'll  think  about  it.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  this  afternoon?" 

"  Write  to  the  girls.  You  see  there's  so  much 
to  tell  them  —  about  the  new  boarder  and  all. 
Mother,  isn't  ten  dollars  a  week  an  awful  lot  for 
hirr  to  pay?  " 


228  Only  Henrietta 

"  It's  the  usual  price  for  board  up  here,  I 
think." 

"Will  you  take  it?" 

"  Yes;  why  not?  Ten  dollars  will  set  our 
table,  and  cut  down  our  expenses.  I'm  very  glad 
to  have  him,  but  you  must  not  interfere  with  his 
freedom,  Henrietta.  And  keep  away  from  his 
cabin,  now  that  he's  settled." 

"  I  will  —  unless  he  specially  invites  me." 

"  Let  me  know  when  he  does,  dear." 

"  All  right.  But  can't  I  show  him  the  places  I 
know  up  the  trail?  " 

"  Of  course.  We  must  do  all  we  can  for  Mrs. 
Lovell's  friend." 

Henrietta  went  in  the  living-room  and  gathered 
up  her  writing  materials  and  diary.  Then  she 
went  out  the  back  door  and  took  the  trail  leading 
up  the  mountain.  She  had  climbed  for  a  half 
hour  when  she  came  to  a  little  place  that  spread 
out  into  a  dell:  a  fairy  place  with  its  ferns  and 
flowers  and  tangled  grass. 

Henrietta  sat  down  by  the  brook  that  flowed 
swiftly  and  got  out  her  paper  and  fountain  pen. 
The  pen  was  such  a  comfort.  It  was  one  of  Mrs. 
Lovell's  gifts. 

She  opened  her  diary  and  started  to  write,  but 
the  surroundings  were  too  attractive.  It  was 
much  more  entertaining  to  think  in  such  a  place,  so 


An  Unexpected  Guest  229 

she  jerked  her  knees  up  under  her  chin  and  gazed 
about  happily. 

"  If  God  had  told  me  that  I  could  have  every- 
thing that  I  wanted  to  build  a  palace,"  she  thought, 
"  I  couldn't  have  done  better  than  this.  There  are 
the  pine  trees  and  the  brook,  and  the  trails  for  a 
garden;  there's  the  paintbrush;  the  dew  drops  and 
the  anemones  for  decoration;  the  big  white  rock 
for  a  dining  table  and  the  wild  canaries  and  larks 
for  music." 

For  over  an  hour  she  sat  with  her  knees  hugged 
up  to  her  chin,  her  eyes  staring  out  over  the  coun- 
try. Finally  she  opened  her  book  and  extracted 
some  writing  paper. 

She  wrote  rapidly,  stopping  now  and  then  to 
think  for  a  moment.  Near  the  end  of  the  letter 
she  wrote : 

"  I  think  you'd  like  him,  Min.  I  can't  de- 
scribe him  any  better  than  to  say  that  he's  the 
living  image  of  those  stunning  looking  young 
men  you  see  tacked  up  in  street  cars  and  places 
to  advertise  collars.  You  know.  Aristocratic 
and  terribly  Eastern.  Not  that  that  makes  him 
any  nicer,  but  it  gives  him  art  air.  He's  going 
to  be  with  us  all  summer,  so  you'll  have  a  chance 
to  judge  for  yourself.  Mother  thinks  we  can 
be  ready  for  you  the  second  week  in  July  and 
you  are  to  stay  ten  days  or  more.  I  can  hardly 


230  Only  Henrietta 

wait  to  see  you.  It  seems  like  an  age  since  we 
parted.  I  must  get  down  off  my  perch  now 
(you  should  see  how  high  up  I  am)  and  go 
home  to  help  Mother.  Everything  is  so  beau- 
tiful up  here  you'll  just  love  it. 

"  P.  S. 

"  He  thinks  I'm  sixteen  and  yes,  although  I 
hate  not  telling  the  truth,  I  let  him  think  so. 
I'm  going  to  try  to  do  my  hair  like  Nancy's  to- 
night, but  I  don't  suppose  I  can  get  that  sticky- 
out  twist  she  gets  to  save  me.  Tell  your  father 
that  I've  found  the  dewdrops,  just  like  he  said. 
There's  one  right  by  me  now  looking  up  into  the 
face  of  a  columbine.  I  bet  it's  worshiping. 
Maybe  that's  why  columbines  hang  their  heads. 
Aren't  they  sweet?  Just  like  little  gray  doves, 
so  pure  and  innocent.  Isn't  it  funny,  I  always 
think  of  flowers  as  little  people?  To-day  on 
the  way  up  I'm  positive  that  a  lady  paint  brush 
was  shouting  to  a  wild  rose.  Maybe  she  was 
saying  so  much  perfume  was  vulgar.  The  air 
certainly  was  thick  with  it.  I  'spose  paint 
brushes  can  be  jealous  as  well  as  anything  else. 
Oh,  yes,  he  says  (did  I  tell  you  his  name  was 
Richard  Bently,  but  we're  to  call  him  Dick) 
that  we'll  take  some  long  hikes  over  the  moun- 
tain and  that  he'll  tell  me  a  lot  about  flowers 
and  rocks.  He's  had  them  at  college.  I  don't 
believe  I  care  so  very  much  whether  Van  Dyne 


An  Unexpected  Guest  231 

gets  up  here  or  not.  It's  kind  of  nice  to  know 
somebody  new.  I  don't  suppose  his  mother 
would  want  him  to  be  with  us  so  very  much 
anyway.  She's  so  stylish.  Don't  forget  to 
bring  old  shoes  to  climb  in,  and  plenty  of  middy 
blouses. 

"  Thine  through  all  eternity, 

"  HENRIETTA." 

"  P.  S. 

"  Don't  think  I  have  nothing  to  talk  about 
but  him,  but  I  must  tell  you  that  he  paints  and 
plays  the  piano.  I  haven't  heard  him  yet,  but 
probably  shall  to-night.  He's  going  to  lend 
me  his  water  colors.  I  will  send  you  a  por- 
trait of  Miss  Ellwell,  enlarged  from  my  diary. 
Shall  I  do  her  in  sepia  or  indigo?  What  is 
the  proper  color?  I'll  ask  him." 

Henrietta  went  down  the  path  slowly.  It  was 
getting  on  to  four  o'clock  and  she  had  promised 
to  make  a  dessert  for  dinner.  She  was  very  par- 
ticular about  the  flowers  she  gathered.  She  was 
not  usually  so  fussy,  but  she  had  a  vision  of  the 
dinner  table  with  its  low  bowl  of  fresh  anemones. 

She  had  an  armful  of  columbines  and  bluebells 
when  she  finally  reached  the  cottage.  She  put 
them  in  a  bucket  of  cold  water  and  hastened  to 
make  the  simple  cornstarch  pudding,  so  that  it 
might  cool  in  the  little  wooden  box  set  in  the 


232  Only  Henrietta 

stream  at  the  back  of  the  house.  Henrietta  loved 
the  home-made  contrivance.  The  roll  of  butter 
always  came  forth  so  fresh  and  sweet,  and  the  milk 
never  soured. 

"  Do  you  think  I'd  have  time  to  make  some  lit- 
tle cakes?"  she  called  to  her  mother,  who  was 
enjoying  a  deep  chair  and  a  book  before  a  sleepy 
fire  in  the  living-room. 

"  I  think  so,  dear."  . 

"  May  I  make  chocolate  icing?  Do  you  sup- 
pose he'd  like  it?  " 

"  Most  boys  do.     It  would  be  very  nice." 

For  a  half  hour  Henrietta's  voice  could  be 
heard  lifted  in  song  as  she  moved  about  in  the 
kitchen.  She  emerged  long  enough  to  take  a 
sample  of  cake  in  to  her  mother  before  she  began 
icing. 

"  Good,  isn't  it?  I'm  surprised,  too.  My 
mind  was  on  so  many  things.  I  had  an  awful  turn 
for  a  minute.  I  thought  I  had  used  two  tea- 
spoons of  soda  instead  of  baking  powder.  But 
I  didn't.  I'm  going  to  arrange  the  flowers  now. 
Mother!  this  is  the  third  book  I've  picked  up  after 
you,  and  you  just  shed  shawls.  What  am  I  going 
to  do  with  you  ?  " 

Henrietta's  sudden  neatness  made  Mrs.  Kirby 
laugh. 

"  Why  this  unusual  order,  Henrietta?  We  are 
up  here  to  rest." 


An  Unexpected  Guest  233 

"  I  know  —  but  we  want  him  to  think  we're  — 
somebody,  don't  we?  He  doesn't  know  anything 
about  —  the  hair  business." 

"  There's  no  disgrace  in  it,  Henrietta." 

"  No  disgrace  —  of  course,  but  — " 

"  Just  be  yourself,  my  child.  You  can't  deceive 
people.  You  remember  what  you  once  told  me 
about  Mrs.  Gates :  that  she  was  rather  ordinary  — 
and  that  her  manner  '  spoke  to  you.'  Well  — 
don't  forget  we  '  speak  to  people,'  too.  Let  us 
try  to  be  gentle  and  respectable.  That  goes  a 
long  way." 

Henrietta  bent  over  and  kissed  the  placid  face 
upturned  to  her  own. 

'  You're  always  so  sweet  and  —  and  —  such 
a  little  lady!  What  have  I  done,  Mother? 
Don't  shrink  back  like  that!  Don't  you  want  me 
to  kiss  you?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  of  course."  Mrs.  Kirby  drew  the 
child  into  her  arms  and  smoothed  the  dark  hair 
tenderly. 

"  Sometimes  I  feel  like  calling  you  Little  Lady, 
Mother,  you  — " 

"  Don't,  Henrietta  —  please." 

"  All  right.  Oh,  dear  me,  I  forgot  all  about 
the  columbines  and  the  bluebells.  Their  poor  feet 
will  be  so  soaked.  They'll  have  dreadful  colds. 
The  water  was  like  ice.  Don't  you  want  to  help 
me  arrange  them?  It's  going  to  take  me  some 


234  Only  Henrietta 

time  to  dress  to-night.  I've  got  to  wrestle  with 
my  hair.  You  don't  suppose  that  you  could  get 
that  twist  Nancy  gets,  do  you?  You  know,  low 
on  your  neck  and  kind  of  sticky-out!  " 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  put  up  your  hair,  dear." 

"Just  for  to-night?     Please." 

"  I'll  try  it  —  but  I  don't  want  to.  You  look 
too  old  for  your  age  now.  You're  so  tall.  Bring 
me  the  flowers  first.  It's  such  a  joy  to  have  time 
to  arrange  them." 

She  rose  as  Henrietta  left  the  room  and  stood 
for  a  moment  looking  out  into  the  soft  gray  twi- 
light, for  summer  days  are  short  in  the  mountains. 
She  was  so  absorbed  with  her  thoughts  that  Hen- 
rietta's arm  thrown  across  her  shoulder  startled 
her. 

"  Here  are  the  flowers,  Mother,  and  please 
don't  mix  them  all  in  one  place.  The  Big  Gar- 
dener who  plants  them  doesn't.  If  you  just  go  up 
to  my  dell  by  the  Silvery  Waters  you'll  see  that 
you  can't  improve  on  Nature.  I'll  be  ready  for 
you  to  do  my  hair  in  fifteen  minutes,  and  thank 
you  awfully." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    NEW    BOARDER 

IT  was  a  quarter  to  six  o'clock  when  Henrietta 
emerged  from  her  bedroom  and  came  pattering 
down  the  stairs.  She  paused  halfway  and  her 
glance  swept  the  room  below.  The  prospects 
must  have  pleased  her,  for  her  eyes  brightened. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  am  7  or  somebody  else,"  she 
said  to  herself,  as  she  gained  the  last  step  and 
looked  around. 

A  brilliant  fire  leaped  on  the  hearth,  and  the 
chairs  were  drawn  up  cozily.  The  rosy  glow 
spread  over  the  room,  hunting  out  the  shadows, 
giving  soft  ruby  tones  to  the  Indian  blankets. 
Shafts  of  light  played  on  the  furniture,  the  books, 
the  low  metal  bowls  that  held  the  flowers.  They 
flickered  and  shimmered  on  the  curtains  that  had 
been  drawn  over  the  deep  wide  windows. 

Henrietta  moved  about  with  the  certainty  of  the 
born  homemaker.  She  rearranged  the  books  and 
magazines  on  the  tables;  shook  up  the  cushions  on 
the  wide  couch,  loosened  the  flowers  in  the  bowls. 

She  lingered  over  the  flowers  caressingly,  paus- 
ing by  a  basket  of  paint  brush. 

235 


236  Only  Henrietta 

"  I  said  something  mean  about  one  of  your 
family  to-day,"  she  said.  She  bent  over  the 
stalky,  cheerful  little  red  things  as  if  they  could 
understand.  "  I  said  she  was  jealous  of  the  wild 
rose.  I  should  have  understood,  for  I'm  a  paint 
brush  myself.  Perhaps  that's  why  the  thought 
came  to  me.  All  my  life  I've  had  to  breathe  wild 
roses  way  up  above  me  —  until  now.  I  know 
how  you  feel." 

The  opening  of  the  front  door  made  her  turn 
quickly.  Dick's  face  peeped  in  cautiously. 

"  May  I  come  in,  or  am  I  supposed  to  knock 
when  I  enter?  You  must  put  me  wise  to  the  ways 
of  the  household.  Jove,  isn't  this  jolly  I  " 

"  You  mean  the  fire?  " 

"  I  mean  the  whole  —  ensemble  —  and  you ! 
What  have  you  done  to  yourself?  It's  your  hair. 
It's  different.  And  becoming.  You're  quite  the 
young  lady.  Stand  there  a  minute  by  that  red 
stuff.  You're  as  vivid  as  they  are.  Let  me 
sketch  you  to-morrow.  You'd  make  a  dandy 
poster.  The  Paint  Brush  Girl!  " 

"  I  guess  that's  what  I  am,"  Henrietta  said,  fail- 
ing to  get  the  compliment.  "  I  was  just  thinking 
so  myself.  You  look  nice,  too.  But  you  needn't 
have  put  on  the  white  flannels  —  just  for  us ; 
though  I  love  them." 

The  words  were  so  sincere  and  naive  that  the 
boy  put  his  hand  on  his  heart  and  made  a  low  bow. 


The  New  Boarder  237 

"  May  I  return  the  compliment?  Now  that 
you've  come  away  from  the  paint  brush  I  see  that 
you're  really  an  American  Beauty." 

"  Please  don't  laugh  at  me." 

"  Laugh  at  you !  I'm  afraid  your  mother 
would  send  me  scampering  if  I  told  you  how  pretty 
you  are  in  that  white  Peter  Tom." 

"Really?" 

"  Really  —  and  then  some !  " 

"  Thank  you." 

"  You're  welcome.     No  charge." 

"  Are  you  hungry?  " 

"  Starved." 

"  Did  you  get  to  the  top  of  the  mountain?  " 

"  I  got  a  fair  start." 

They  both  laughed,  and  Henrietta  pulled  forth 
the  most  comfortable  chair  in  the  room  and  got  a 
magazine  from  the  table. 

"  Sit  here,"  she  said.  "  I'll  help  Mother  get 
the  dinner  on." 

The  boy  protested. 

"  Not  on  your  life !  I'm  going  to  help.  What 
can  I  do?" 

Henrietta  looked  about.  Then  she  came  a  bit 
closer.  "  I  was  just  thinking,"  she  said,  "  what 
fun  it  would  be  to  have  dinner  by  the  firelight,  and 
candles.  There  are  some  crystal  candlesticks  with 
the  candles  all  ready  in  them.  I've  been  dying  to 
use  them,  but  just  for  ourselves  — " 


238  Only  Henrietta 

"  It  appeals  to  me.  Shall  I  light  them?  Are 
these  the  ones?  " 

'Yes.  Oh,  how  lovely!  I  never  dreamed 
that  I  should  be  dining  by  candlelight  in  my  own 
house  —  not  my  own  exactly  —  but  for  the  time. 
Doesn't  it  throw  a  wonderful  light  on  the  anem- 
ones. Aren't  they  too  dear?  Do  you  like  flow- 
ers?" 

'  Very  much.  Especially  wild  ones.  The 
country  here's  thick  with  them,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Yes.  My  dell  that  I  call  '  Silvery  Waters ' 
is  just  like  a  carpet.  You  have  to  walk  so  care- 
fully not  to  hurt  them.  I  can't  bear  to  step  on 
them,  can  you?  " 

The  boy  did  not  answer.  He  was  looking  into 
Henrietta's  limpid  blue  eyes  wonderingly. 

"Are  all  Western  girls  like  you?"  he  asked 
abruptly.  "  Have  they  all  so  much  tempera- 
ment? " 

"What's  that?" 

He  laughed  teasingly.  "  Sort  of  corollary  to 
temper." 

"What's  corollary?" 

"  Something  that  naturally  follows.  Haven't 
you  had  geometry?  " 

"  No;  but  I  guess  if  it  follows  a  temper  I've 
got  it.  Mother  says  she  thinks  there  must  be  a 
lot  of  Irish  in  me.  I  get  mad  just  like  that!  " 
She  snapped  her  fingers  sharply. 


The  New  Boarder  239 

"  I  believe  I'd  like  to  see  your  eyes  blaze,"  the 
boy  ventured. 

"  You'll  have  plenty  of  chances,"  Henrietta 
said  obligingly,  and  went  to  help  her  mother. 

The  dinner  was  very  simple,  but  the  boy  ate 
ravenously.  Henrietta  watched  him  under  droop- 
ing lashes.  She  liked  to  see  his  smile  flash,  listen 
to  his  funny  little  quirks  of  pronunciation.  He 
had  a  fund  of  good  stories  and  thrilling  experi- 
ences. 

"  I  telephoned  to  the  Springs  to-day  to  have 
'  His  Jags  '  sent  up.  Will  you  go  with  me  to  meet 
him?"  he  asked  Henrietta. 

"His  Jags!     Who's  that?" 

"  Bounder.     The  pup  I  told  you  about." 

"  I'd  love  to.  Will  he  come  on  the  ten- 
twenty?  " 

"  I  hope  so.  But  I'll  have  to  confess  his  sins 
to  you  before  he  comes.  Bounder's  a  snob. 
Don't  expect  him  to  be  friendly." 

Henrietta's  face  clouded.     She  loved  animals. 

"  A  snob?     Truly?" 

"  Of  the  first  water." 

"  That's  horrid." 

"  Isn't  it?  I've  argued  the  matter  with  him 
prayerfully,  but  it's  had  no  weight.  My  sisters 
can't  abide  him  because  he  ignores  them." 

"I  —  I  think  he'd  come  to  me.  That  is,  he'd 
make  up." 


240  Only  Henrietta 

"  Want  to  bet  on  it?  " 

"Yes;  I  will." 

"  All  right,  the  best  box  of  chocolates  I  can  find 
in  the  Springs  if  he  bats  an  eyelash  when  you  speak 
to  him.  Two  boxes  if  you  can  make  him  shake 
hands." 

'  Very  well  —  only  I  can't  give  you  chocolates. 
I  make  pretty  nice  fudge." 

"  Bully!     Better  get  it  ready  to-night." 

"  Don't  be  so  sure." 

"  I  know  Bounder." 

"  And  I  know  dogs.  Specially  bulldogs.  I 
was  brought  up  with  one.  Old  Tim.  He  be- 
longed to  the  McHenrys  next  door.  Many  a 
time  I've  crawled  in  his  kennel  and  told  him  my 
troubles.  He  always  understood  and  licked  my 
hand." 

"  But  he  wasn't  an  aristocrat  —  perhaps?  " 

Henrietta  lifted  her  eyes  slowly.  Her  clear 
glance  made  Dick  feel  rather  small. 

"I  think  he  was,"  she  said  thoughtfully  — 
"  only  he  didn't  know  it.  Real  aristocrats  don't; 
at  least  they're  never  snobs.  Tim  loved  every- 
body; but  you  couldn't  take  liberties  with  him." 

Henrietta  helped  her  mother  pick  up  the  dishes. 
Dick  offered  to  dry  them,  but  Henrietta  refused 
his  assistance. 

"  We're  used  to  it,"  she  said.  "  We'll  get 
them  done  in  a  jiffy.  Amuse  yourself.  Maybe 


The  New  Boarder  241 

you'd  like  to  play.  Mrs.  Lovell  had  the  piano 
tuned.  She  thought  we  might  like  to  dance  to  it. 
Nancy  Dare,  one  of  the  girls  that's  coming  up 
soon,  plays  beautifully." 

But  Dick  didn't  go  to  the  piano.  He  wandered 
over  to  the  fire  and  stood  for  a  moment  looking 
into  the  coals.  Suddenly  he  appeared  at  the  door 
leading  to  the  kitchen. 

"  Anybody  mind  if  I  smoke?  "  he  asked. 

"  Make  yourself  at  home,"  Mrs.  Kirby  said. 
"  I  don't  mind  tobacco  in  the  least." 

When  Henrietta  came  intoi  the  living-room, 
twenty  minutes  later,  she  found  him  absorbed  in 
his  pipe  and  the  fire. 

"Won't  you  play  for  us  —  please?"  Henri- 
etta asked.  "  It  would  be  such  a  treat." 

Richard  was  on  his  feet  instantly,  leading 
Mrs.  Kirby  to  his  own  comfortable  chair  by  the 
fire. 

"  Not  to-night.  I  only  play  when  the  spirit 
moves  me.  You  see,  I  have  one  of  those  dan- 
gling things  to  my  disposition,  too."  His  smile 
was  infectious.  Henrietta  found  the  corners  of 
her  own  mouth  relaxing. 

'  Then  we  ought  to  get  on  well  together,"  she 
said. 

;fTwo  people  with  temperament?"  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  he  still  smiled.  "  It's 
more  probable  that  we'll  fight  like  cats  and  dogs, 


242  Only  Henrietta 

Henrietta.  Let's  fortify  against  that.  Let's 
promise  not  to  get  angry  at  the  same  time.  I 
blow  up,  too." 

Henrietta  put  her  hand  in  the  one  extended. 

Dick  lingered  by  the  fire  until  the  big  log  died 
to  an  amber  glow.  Then  he  got  up,  stretched  his 
long  arms  above  his  head  in  boy  fashion,  and 
apologized  for  a  yawn. 

"  It's  not  the  company  —  it's  the  climate,"  he 
said  with  his  irresistible  laugh.  "  By  Jove,  I'm 
so  sleepy  I  could  lie  here  on  the  floor  and  never 
waken  until  morning.  Good  night."  He 
reached  out  a  sun-browned  hand  and  grasped  Mrs. 
Kirby's. 

"  It  was  ripping  to  get  into  a  place  like  this," 
he  said.  "  I'm  no  end  grateful.  All  the  com- 
forts of  home  —  and  Henrietta  in  the  bargain !  " 
He  smiled  in  Henrietta's  direction  whimsically  — 
a  friendly,  big  brother  smile  that  nettled  a  bit. 
It  made  Henrietta  feel  ten  instead  of  — "  not  quite 
sixteen." 

Mrs.  Kirby  held  the  kitchen  door  wide  so  that 
a  path  of  light  streamed  toward  the  cabin  and  he 
went  out  whistling  a  low  tuneful  melody. 

"My,  but  he's  good  company,  isn't  he?" 
Henrietta  said  as  the  door  closed.  "  Aren't  you 
glad  he  came?  And  ten  dollars  a  week  board! 
Isn't  it  splendid?" 

"  It  will  help  a  great  deal,  Henrietta.     We  have 


The  New  Boarder  243 

so  much  to  be  thankful  for.     Lock  the  front  door 
dear,  and  get  to  bed.     It's  ten  o'clock." 

"  Mother;  will  you  let  me  go  horseback  riding 
with  him  —  and  tramping  in  the  woods?  I'd 
love  to  show  him  the  Solitude  Walk  and  Seven 
Lakes.  He'd  dote  on  them." 

"  I'll  think  about  it,  Henrietta." 

"  But  maybe  he'll  ask  me  to  go  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Kirby  straightened  the  living-room  chairs 
before  she  replied. 

"  I  don't  think  Mrs.  Lovell  would  send  any- 
body to  us  that  wasn't  trustworthy,  Henrietta. 
Yes,  I  think  you  may  go  if  he  asks  you.  He  seems 
to  be  a  charming  lad;  very  much  of  a  gentle- 
man." 

"Isn't  he!  Good  night.  If  you  need  any- 
thing after  you  get  in  bed  just  whistle.  I'll  hear 
you.  Wasn't  it  heavenly  to  have  the  candles  and 
the  flowers  and  the  firelight?  Didn't  you  feel  as 
if  you  were  really  living?  Oh,  if  it  could  only 
last,  and  we  could  be  ladies  all  the  time." 

"  Haven't  we  always  been  ladies?  " 
'  Yes.     I  'spose  we  have  —  only  nobody  would 
ever  have  suspected  it  —  the  way  we  lived  —  and 
the  hair  and  all.     There's  an  extra  kiss,  beloved- 
est.     Sweet  dreams." 

Richard  Bently  was  a  little  slow  in  getting  to  bed 
for  all  he  was  so  sleepy.  He  finished  putting 
away  his  clothes  in  the  closet,  hung  up  a  few  fam- 


244  Only  Henrietta 

ily  pictures  and  sorted  out  two  or  three  photo- 
graphs. 

Then  he  lighted  a  pipe  and  sat  down  in  a  deep 
leather  chair  to  doze  a  while  in  dressing-gown  and 
slippers.  It  was  nearly  midnight  when  he  at  last 
turned  to  the  comfortable  looking  bed  in  the  cor- 
ner and  settled  down  for  the  night. 

His  last  thoughts  ran  something  like  this: 

"  I've  landed  on  my  feet,  all  right.  There 
won't  be  much  homesickness  with  that  motherly 
little  woman  at  the  helm.  And  the  girl !  What  an 
odd  mixture  of  child  and  grown-up !  She  was  a 
picture  standing  beside  those  red  flowers:  as  vivid 
as  the  things  themselves.  It  would  be  fun  to  draw 
her  in  some  of  those  graceful  .poses.  Out  under 
the  pine  trees  —  with  Bounder,  perhaps.  If  the 
old  scamp  would  only  make  up  to  her.  Thor- 
oughbreds! A  ripping  poster!  She  must  wear  a 
red  sweater;  it  would  bring  out  the  black  hair  — 
give  her  verve.  Where  did  she  come  from  with 
that  highbred  face?" 

But  Henrietta,  tucked  snugly  in  the  little  white 
bed  upstairs,  had  more  difficulty  in  wooing  sleep. 
There  was  so  much  to  go  over  in  the  day's  happen- 
ings. The  boy  had  been  so  interesting.  Some- 
how —  it  was  absurd,  of  course  —  but  his  coming 
had  made  her  think  of  The  Lily  Maid  of  Astolot. 
But  that  was  because  Miss  Ellwell  had  made  her 
memorize  so  much  of  the  poem  last  year.  It  was 


The  New  Boarder  245 

fresh  in  her  mind.  Certainly  there  was  nothing 
about  Richard  Bently  to  remind  one  of  Lancelot. 

She  fell  asleep  finally  to  dream  that  a  knight 
came  down  over  the  Green  Mountain  with  a  troop 
of  warriors.  He  rode  a  snow-white  charger.  A 
brindle  dog  trotted  soberly  at  the  charger's  heels; 
a  vicious  dog  that  snapped  at  her  when  she  tried 
to  pet  him. 

She  had  seen  the  knight  coming  —  way  off  on 
the  crest  of  the  mountain  and  had  gone  to  meet 
him,  but  she  had  no  shield  to  give  him,  so  she 
stopped  by  the  Silvery  Waters  and  gathered  an 
armful  of  paint  brush.  She  held  her  gift  high, 
and,  swinging  down  from  the  saddle,  the  knight 
took  the  flowers  from  her.  At  his  touch  they 
changed  to  a  rosebush.  Then  the  knight  com- 
manded one  of  his  men  to  get  a  pick  and  shovel 
from  the  van  that  followed  and  dig  a  hole  in  which 
to  plant  the  bush.  When  it  was  safely  intrenched 
in  the  dark  soil  he  turned,  and  bent  low  over  it. 

"  Watch  the  bush,"  he  whispered.  "  When  the 
first  bloom  comes  I  will  return  for  you;  "  and  she 
had  looked  up  to  find  the  clear  hazel  eyes  of  the 
new  boarder's  fixed  tenderly  upon  her. 

It  was  a  silly  dream,  so  silly  that  she  laughed 
aloud  when  she  wakened.  But  she  went  back  to 
sleep  hoping  she  might  have  the  good  fortune  to 
dream  it  all  over  again. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

HENRIETTA    SCORES 

HENRIETTA  awoke  the  next  morning  to  find  the 
sun  shining  broadly  through  her  east  window. 
She  jumped  out  of  bed  and,  running  to  the  door, 
listened  for  a  moment  to  the  sounds  that  issued 
from  below. 

Yes  —  that  certainly  was  the  rattling  of  dishes. 
They  were  having  breakfast!  How  could  she 
have  been  so  lazy. 

She  was  drawing  on  her  stockings  with  eager 
haste  when  the  door  opened  and  her  mother  came 
in  with  her  breakfast. 

"  Mother!  what  are  you  doing?  I  won't  have 
you  waiting  on  me  like  this.  Why  didn't  you  call 
me?" 

"  I  did,  dear,  but  you  were  sleeping  so  sweetly, 
and  I  thought  you  would  enjoy  having  your  break- 
fast here.  I've  wanted  to  bring  it  up  to  you  ever 
since  I  first  saw  this  little  service.  Isn't  it 
pretty?  " 

"It's  perfectly  sweet;  but  —  oh,  Mother,  you 
spoil  me  1  " 

"  I  don't  think  so,  Henrietta." 

216 


Henrietta  Scores  247 

"  You  would  if  I'd  let  you.  Please  put  the  tray 
on  the  table.  I'll  wash  my  face  and  hands  in  a 
jiffy.  Isn't  it  a  wonderful  morning?  Hear  that 
bird  out  there  in  the  pine !  I've  dreamed  for  the 
last  half  hour  that  he  was  serenading  me.  I've 
dreamed  all  night." 

".  That's  why  you  slept  so  late.  You  were  rest- 
less. It's  very  wearing  to  dream." 

Henrietta  finished  her  ablutions  and  got  back 
into  bed.  Mrs.  Kirby  heaped  the  pillows  up 
comfortably  and  put  the  tray  with  its  steaming 
coffee  and  toast  on  the  waiting  knees. 

"  Oh,  Mother,  isn't  it  wonderful !  And  this 
darling  cup  and  saucer.  I  feel  as  if  we  were  worth 
millions.  In  a  minute  I'll  be  saying,  <  Celeste,  get 
my  bath  ready.  I'll  use  Florida  water  instead  of 
violet  to  perfume  it  this  morning,'  and,  '  Celeste, 
my  pink  kimono,  the  one  embroidered  in  gold, 
please.  Why  are  you  so  slow?  You  know  that 
I  have  an  appointment  with  Sir  Richard  at  ten.  I 
am  to  meet  His  Jags  who  is  arriving  on  the  ten- 
twenty.  I  shall  allow  you  no  more  evenings  out, 
Celeste.  You  are  too  stupid  in  the  morning !  ' 

Henrietta  went  through  the  speech  with  languid 
gestures,  fluttering  eyelids  and  a  delicious  drawl. 

"  I'm  afraid  Sir  Richard  will  go  without  you  if 
you  don't  hurry,"  Mrs.  Kirby  reminded.  "  It's 
half  past  nine  now." 

"  Oh,  not  really!" 


248  Only  Henrietta 

"  Yes,  really." 

"  Well,  he'll  have  to  wait.  It  will  be  good  for 
him.  Men  should  be  trained  to  wait." 

"  Henrietta,  where  do  you  get  such  ideas?  " 

u  From  books.  They're  always  kept  on  the 
anxious  seat,  there.  Does  Sir  Richard  look  nice 
this  morning.  Has  he  got  on  the  white  flannels?  " 

"No;  he's  in  his  riding  clothes.  Some  one 
brought  his  pony  a  while  ago." 

"  So  we're  going  to  ride.  You  may  put  the 
kimono  away,  Celeste  and  bring  my  riding  things. 
See  that  the  boots  are  clean;  very  clean,  Celeste. 
I  wore  them  in  the  mud  yesterday.  And  Celeste, 
have  the  kindness  to  get  a  move  on,  please!  " 

She  handed  the  tray  to  her  mother  and  sprang 
out  of  bed  with  a  gleeful  laugh. 

"  But  you  haven't  eaten  a  thing,  Henrietta," 
Mrs.  Kirby  protested.  "  Come,  there's  plenty  of 
time  if  you're  going  to  ride." 

"  I've  had  enough,  belovedest.  I  drank  every 
drop  of  the  coffee.  You  were  an  angel  to  bring 
it  up.  Save  the  toast.  I'll  eat  it  for  my  lunch 
with  hot  milk  over  it.  I  still  know  how  to  save  if 
I  do  employ  a  French  maid." 

She  threw  back  the  covers  of  the  bed  and  raised 
a  threatening  finger  in  her  mother's  direction. 

'  You  are  not  to  make  this  bed  up,  you  know, 
under  any  circumstances.  It's  horrid  to  make  a 
bed  up  warm.  I  want  all  that  sweet  piney  air 


Henrietta  Scores  249 

through  it.  Isn't  this  a  wonderful  morning? 
Look  at  the  old  Green  Sultan.  He's  polished  up 
his  emeralds  and  put  'em  on.  Come  have  a  peep 
at  him." 

Henrietta  could  hardly  tear  herself  away  from 
the  view.  The  mountain  was  superb  with  the 
early  sun  upon  it.  A  fresh,  gentle  wind  swept 
down  from  the  crest.  It  strayed  into  the  room, 
playing  with  the  white  ruffled  curtains;  bringing 
with  it  the  songs  and  twittering  of  birds. 

Henrietta  dressed  carefully.  She  spent  some 
time  over  her  long  black  hair,  twisting  the  coils 
snugly  under  the  wide  sombrero..  Her  freshness 
matched  the  morning  when  she  finally  went  down 
stairs. 

"  I  do  hope  I  haven't  kept  you  waiting,"  she 
said  to  the  impatient  youth  who  strode  back  and 
forth  in  the  living-room.  "  I  woke  up  so  late, 
and  my  maid  was  so  pokey  —  she  absolutely  re- 
fused to  hurry.  Celeste  is  so  trying!  " 

She  showed  her  white  teeth  in  an  enchanting 
smile  and  the  boy  laughed. 

"  If  we  don't  hurry  they're  going  to  throw  '  Old 
Jags  '  off  the  train  and  he'll  wipe  out  the  town 
before  I  get  there.  It's  ten  and  after,  now. 
Jove,  but  you're  smart  in  those  togs!  Let  me 
sketch  you  when  we  come  back,  will  you?  " 

"  I  thought  I  was  to  be  a  paint  brush  girl?  " 

"  You're  to  be  a  good  many  things.     You'll 


250  Only  Henrietta 

have  to  be  my  Lucrezia  —  serve  for  the  five  mod- 
els I  require." 

"Lucrezia?" 

"  The  wife  of  Andrea  Del  Sarto." 

"Who's  he?" 

"  A  painter." 

"Oh!     Do  you  know  him?" 

"Well  —  not  intimately.  Only  through  his 
work." 

"Why  are  you  laughing?" 

"  Am  I  laughing?  " 

"  You  know  you  are." 

"  Del  Sarto's  been  dead  several  hundred  years." 

A  flush  covered  Henrietta's  face,  but  she  said 
nothing. 

They  were  out  in  the  yard  now,  and  Henrietta 
swung  into  her  saddle  with  agility  that  did  her 
credit.  Dick  had  saddled  Fashion  an  hour  be- 
fore. 

They  rode  a  little  way  in  silence. 

"  Don't  get  sore  because  I  laughed,"  the  boy 
said,  laying  a  gentle  hand  on  Fashion's  neck.  "  I 
think  it's  this  fresh  air  and  the  freedom  and  nov- 
elty that  makes  me  hilarious.  I  want  to  laugh  at 
anything.  How  should  you  know  about  an  old 
wart  who's  been  in  his  grave  for  centuries." 

Henrietta  was  forgiving. 

"  Did  you  make  the  fudge?  "  Dick  asked. 

"No  —  I  don't  expect  to." 


Henrietta  Scores  251 

"  Are  you  a  hypnotist?  " 

"What's  that?"  Henrietta  wished  he 
wouldn't  introduce  so  many  foreign  subjects. 

"  A  person  who  has  control  over  another." 

"  Oh,  I  know.  I  saw  a  man  in  a  window  once; 
somebody  had  put  him  to  sleep  for  three  days. 
No;  of  course  I'm  not.  How  silly!  " 

"  Then  you'll  never  make  old  Bounder  speak  to 
you." 

"Won't  I?"  This  very  archly  under  black 
lashes. 

"  You  certainly  will  not." 

u  Don't  be  too  sure.  The  less  you  say  the  less 
you'll  have  to  take  back." 

They  were  in  sight  of  the  station  and  Henrietta 
could  see  a  thin  streak  of  smoke  rising  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

"  On  time  to-day,"  she  remarked,  nodding  to  the 
east.  '  There's  the  whistle.  Fashion  isn't  any 
too  fond  of  trains.  I'll  tie  her  over  at  the  hotel 
and  walk  down  to  the  station.  You  go  on  and  get 
the  dog." 

The  train  had  steamed  in  when  she  reached  the 
tracks.  She  had  to  wait  only  a  moment  for  Dick, 
who  appeared  down  the  long  platform  with  a 
brown  brindle  dog  in  leash.  Henrietta  hastened 
her  steps.  Dick's  face  held  an  expectant  grin. 

"  Well,  here  he  is !  "  he  said,  laying  an  affection- 
ate hand  on  the  dog's  spiked  collar. 


252  Only  Henrietta 

The  crowd  had  thinned  out.  Henrietta  and 
Dick  had  the  platform  to  themselves. 

"  Bounder,  this  is  Miss  Henrietta  Kirby,"  Dick 
said  quite  formally.  "  She  bets  she  can  make  you 
speak  to  her.  Now,  don't  disappoint  her.  Say 
*  How  'de  do.'  Put  out  your  paw." 

Bounder  gazed  into  his  master's  face  ecstati- 
cally. 

"  I  said  speak  to  the  young  lady,  Bounder. 
You've  said  you're  glad  to  see  me." 

Henrietta  came  a  step  nearer.  Bounder's  gaze 
never  left  Dick's  face.  He  whined  and  cried 
with  delight,  making  wild  leaps  of  joy. 

"Quiet,  Bounder!  Down!  Down,  I  say! 
There,  that's  enough!  " 

The  dog  quieted  instantly,  and  Henrietta 
stepped  forward. 

"  Bounder,"  she  said  in  a  low,  gentle  tone. 
The  voice  was  sweet  and  caressing.  "  Bounder, 
look  round  here.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

Bounder's  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  master's.  He 
did  not  shift  them  for  a  second. 

"  Bounder!  "  She  laid  a  hand  on  the  brown 
head  which  was  instantly  pulled  from  her  reach. 

"  Nice  old  Bounder.  Come,  I  love  dogs,  let  me 
love  you  a  little !  " 

She  knelt  down  on  the  board  walk  and  laid  an 
arm  over  the  brindle  shoulder.  A  little  quiver 
went  through  the  dog's  frame.  He  turned  ever 


Henrietta  Scores  253 

so  slightly,  but  his  eyes  remained  fixed  on  Dick. 

"Come  on,  now,  be  friends!"  Several  pats 
accompanied  the  invitation.  "  Nice  old  fellow. 
Come,  make  up  —  you  would  if  you  knew  how 
much  I  like  you.  I  don't  even  object  to  your 
funny  mouth  and  those  sharp  teeth.  Please  now, 
turn  round  —  that's  it  —  ever  so  little,  just  a  wee 
mite.  There !  Now  put  out  your  hand.  So ! 
Lovely  old  fellow!  Beau'ful  doggy!  You  won't 
give  me  your  paw?  Yes,  you  will  —  in  just  a 
minute.  You  nice  old  thing.  There !  I  thought 
so." 

For  Bounder  had  turned  ever  so  slightly 
to  blink  up  in  the  eyes  bent  over  him.  It  was 
only  a  glance  but  another  followed  —  and  yet 
another. 

"Yes  —  now  you've  looked  you  see  that  I'm 
not  so  bad  as  you  thought.  If  I  can  stand  that 
undershot  jaw,  you  ought  to  endure  me.  Come, 
your  paw,  please.  You've  no  idea  how  I  love 
you  —  and  chocolates!  '* 

Bounder  looked  at  his  master.  Dick  watched 
him  with  interest. 

"Come  on,  Bounder!"  Henrietta  crooned 
the  words. 

The  dog  glanced  once  more  into  Henrietta's 
eyes,  then  he  slowly  lifted  a  paw  and  let  it  drop 
again  on  the  walk. 

"  Come  along  now.     That  was  a  good  start. 


254  Only  Henrietta 

Fine !  How  do  you  do,  beautiful  doggy.  Now, 
once  more !  " 

Bounder  put  out  his  paw  for  the  second  time, 
and  Dick  gave  a  low  whistle  of  astonishment. 

11  Well,  I'll  be  darned,"  he  said,  and  looked 
rather  sheepish. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you !  "  Henrietta  began,  and 
stopped.  "Why,  what's  the  matter?  Didn't 
you  want  him  to  be  nice  to  me?  " 

Dick's  eyes  were  a  little  disappointed  as  they 
met  Henrietta's. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  it,"  he  said. 
"  Bounder's  always  been  indifferent  to  the  whole 
world  when  I'm  around.  He's  never  known  but 
one  master." 

"  But  I  coaxed  him." 

"  A  good  many  people  have  coaxed  him." 

"  Maybe  he  was  a  little  confused  —  in  a  strange 
place,  and  all." 

"  Not  on  your  life !  You  just  got  him,  that's 
all.  He  has  no  regard  for  me,  or  my  pocketbook, 
the  old  piker.  Is  there  a  candy  store  in  this  burg? 
Or  shall  we  have  the  chocolates  sent  up  from  the 
Springs?  " 

"  The  candy  from  the  Springs  is  better. 
But  —  I'll  make  the  fudge  anyway.  I'd  love  to. 
I'll  do  it  this  afternoon." 

"  All  right.  And  we'll  have  the  candy  from 
the  Springs  to-morrow." 


Henrietta  Scores  255 

They  walked  on  up  the  country  road  to  where 
Fashion  was  tied,  Bounder  following  close  to 
Dick's  heels. 

The  next  week  was  so  full  that  Henrietta  some- 
times wondered  where  the  time  went.  There 
were  no  more  breakfasts  in  bed,  for  she  was  to 
show  Dick  the  wonder  spots  of  the  country. 

She  found  him  a  delightful  companion  —  usu- 
ally. TLere  were  times  when  he  seemed  ab- 
stracted and  even  went  off  into  the  hills  by  him- 
self, but  he  always  came  back  apologizing  for  his 
lack  of  sociability,  laying  the  blame  to  the  "  dan- 
gling thing  to  his  disposition." 

Henrietta  came  home  one  afternoon  to  find 
her  mother  comfortably  ensconced  in  the  deep- 
est porch  chair,  whipping  lace  on  dainty  white 
ruffles. 

"What  is  it,  dearest, —  the  thing  you're  mak- 
ing? It  looks  good  enough  to  eat." 

Mrs.  Kirby  glanced  up  and  smiled  into  the 
eager  blue  eyes. 

"  Guess,"  she  said. 

'  Well  —  it  looks  mightily  like  a  dress,  but  who 
could  it  be  for?  " 

"  For  you,  dear." 

"Forme?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  goods?  " 

"  I  bought  it." 


256  Only  Henrietta 

Henrietta's  heart  took  a  leap.  Then  she  re- 
membered. 

"  Not  with  that  money,"  she  said  quickly. 

"  A  little  of  it,  Henrietta." 

"  I'm  so  sorry.     I  wish  you  hadn't." 

The  sewing  fell  from  Mrs.  Kirby's  fingers  and 
the  joy  went  out  of  her  face. 

"  I  thought  you'd  like  it.  It's  going  to  be  so 
pretty.  I  wanted  to  make  it  while  I  had  the  time. 
It's  a  party  dress.  You've  always  wanted  one. 
I'm  putting  in  the  tucks  by  hand,  and  the  lace  is 
so  pretty.  I  —  I  hoped  that  you  would  be 
pleased." 

Henrietta  bent  down  and  kissed  the  trembling 
lips. 

"  I  am,  belovedest,  of  course,  and  it's  wonder- 
ful to  have  a  dress  that's  all  my  own  —  a  per- 
fectly new  one,  but,  you  know  ...  or  maybe  you 
don't  know  how  I  feel  about  —  him.  I  can't 
help  it." 

"  But,  you  see,  it's  my  gift  after  all,  dear.  I 
bought  it  —  and  I'm  making  it.  Do  try  to  like 
it  and  be  happy." 

"  I'll  adore  it.  Especially  with  all  that  hand- 
work. You  sew  beautifully,  Mother.  If  we 
could  afford  a  dressmaker  she  couldn't  do  it  half 
so  well.  Have  you  selected  the  pattern?  " 

"  Partly.  It's  to  have  a  lot  of  these  little 
ruffles.  You  may  choose  the  style.  There  are 


Henrietta  Scores  257 

some  lovely  things  in  the  magazines  that  Dick 
brought  up  from  the  Springs  yesterday.  He  said 
he  got  all  the  '  woman  stuff  '  he  could  find." 

"  I  suppose  he'll  want  to  sketch  me  in  the  dress 
when  it's  done.  Mother,  do  you  mind  my  being 
a  poster  girl?  Dick  may  sell  some  of  his  work. 
He  hopes  to.  He's  going  to  talk  to  you  about 
it.  He  says  he  will  give  me  a  rake-off,  and  pay 
me  for  posing." 

Mrs.  Kirby  shrank  back  in  her  chair. 

"  I  don't  exactly  like  the  idea,  Henrietta,  but 
we  can  hardly  refuse  Dick.  He's  so  kind, 
and  — " 

She  didn't  finish  the  sentence.  She  was  gazing 
at  Henrietta.  She  scarcely  wondered  that  an  ar- 
tist wanted  the  face  —  the  deep  sparkling  eyes,  the 
lovely  brow  with  the  black  hair  rippling  away  from 
it,  the  sweet,  sensitive  mouth. 

"  He  says  I  have  verve,  whatever  that  is," 
Henrietta  went  on,  "  and  style.  Fancy,  in  Mary 
Helen  Bradford's  old  clothes !  He  says  that  he 
never  saw  anybody's  expressions  change  as  fast 
as  mine  do  —  that  I'm  so  —  so  mobile.  My,  but 
he  knows  a  lot.  My  vocabulary  is  increasing  ter- 
ribly. Mrs.  Lovell  won't  recognize  it.  Dick 
sketched  me  to-day  with  Bounder.  It  was  won- 
derful. You'd  know  me  a  mile  off.  I  wore  his 
red  sweater  and  the  wind  was  blowing  my  hair. 
Oh,  I  almost  forgot.  Here's  the  mail.  We  rode 


258  Only  Henrietta 

down  for  it.  Isn't  this  from  the  Doctor?  It 
looks  like  his  writing." 

Mrs.  Kirby  broke  the  seal  thoughtfully.  After 
a  minute's  inspection  she  said: 

"  Yes,  it  is  from  Dr.  Hughes.  He's  bringing 
his  mother  up  to-morrow  for  the  week-end.  Isn't 
that  pleasant?  " 

Henrietta  threw  her  hat  in  the  air  and  gave  a 
shout  of  joy. 

A  young  man  laden  with  an  artist's  parapher- 
nalia came  up  the  veranda  steps  slowly. 

"What's  the  excitement?"  he  asked,  drawing 
a  chair  close  to  Mrs.  Kirby's. 

"  Our  doctor  is  coming  up  to-morrow  for  the 
week-end,  and  Henrietta  is  delighted.  We  are 
very  fond  of  him." 

"Fond  of  him!  I  adore  him!  Show  Mother 
the  sketch,  Dick." 

The  boy  drew  a  piece  of  drawing  paper  from 
his  portfolio  and  held  it  off  at  arm's  length. 

"  How  splendid,"  Mrs.  Kirby  said,  but  she  drew 
back  in  her  chair  with  a  frightened  expression. 
Her  child  seemed  to  look  forth  from  Henry 
Crosby's  very  being. 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  approve  of  my  sketching 
Henrietta.  I  hope  to  have  some  orders  for  post- 
ers, and  she  fills  the  bill  to  a  T,  but  if  you'd  rather 
I'd  not—" 

"  I  don't  mind.     It  isn't  that;  though  I  don't 


Henrietta  Scores  259 

know  about  her  face  going  over  the  country  on  the 
cover  of  a  magazine  — " 

The  boy  laughed.  "  Thank  you  for  the  compli- 
ment," he  said,  "  but  I  have  no  idea  that  my  work 
is  going  to  prove  as  salable  as  all  that." 

"Why,  I  think  it's  wonderful!"  Henrietta 
broke  in.  "  The  girls  will  be  so  envious.  'Spe- 
cially Lucy  Gates.  Mother's  making  me  a  white 
party  dress  —  my  very  first.  Think  you'd  like  to 
do  me  in  it?  "  She  turned  to  Dick  expectantly. 

"Great!  'Where  the  Brook  and  River 
Meet ' —  something  like  that?  " 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  call.it." 

Dick  took  some  other  sketches  from  the  port- 
folio. One  was  of  a  slender  young  girl  with  a 
Collie  dog. 

"  My  kid  sister,"  he  explained.  "  She's  just 
about  your  age,  Henrietta,  sweet  sixteen !  " 

Henrietta  gave  her  mother  a  warning  look,  but 
it  was  too  late. 

"  Henrietta  is  almost  fourteen,"  Mrs.  Kirby  re- 
marked. "  She's  tall  for  her  age." 

Dick  looked  up,  surprised. 

"Only  fourteen?" 

"  Yes." 

'  You  put  that  over  very  nicely,  young  lady." 
The  young  man's  smile  was  friendly  and  con- 
tagious. 

"  I  didn't  say  I  was  sixteen,  I  only  said  — " 


260  Only  Henrietta 

"Yes,  you  said—" 

41  That  I  —  not  quite  — " 

"  So  you  did.  I  forgive  you  for  leading  me  on; 
trifling  with  my  young  affections." 

"  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing!  Age  doesn't 
matter,  anyway.  I  feel  sixteen  —  and  more 
sometimes." 

The  boy  laughed  good-naturedly.  "  Wonder 
if  you'd  like  to  see  my  family?  "  he  asked.  "  I 
have  some  good  pictures." 

He  went  over  to  the  cabin,  coming  back  pres- 
ently with  an  Indian  basket  full  of  photographs. 

"  These  aren't  all  my  people,"  he  said  with  a 
smile.  "  Some  of  the  pictures  are  of  my  home 
town.  Typical  old  Yankee  burg.  It's  on  the 
Lake  you  know  —  Champlain.  The  country  is 
beautiful." 

"Any  better  than  this?"     Henrietta  asked. 

"Well  —  it's  different.  This  is  so  big  and 
rugged.  You  couldn't  compare  them.  I'll  show 
you  the  town  first  and  then  the  family.  This  is 
an  old  elm-lined  street.  Pretty,  isn't  it?  " 

He  handed  Mrs.  Kirby  several  photographs, 
selecting  a  rather  pretentious  one. 

"  And  this  is  one  of  our  show  places,"  he  said 
with  pardonable  pride.  "  The  old  Crosby  resi- 
dence. It  has  stood  since  the  Revolution  —  re- 
modeled somewhat,  of  course  —  excuse  me  —  I 
thought  you  had  it — " 


Henrietta  Scores  261 

The  picture  fell  to  the  floor.  Etta  Kirby's 
hand  trembled  as  she  stooped  to  get  it. 

"  It  stands  on  a  hill,"  the  boy  went  on.  *  The 
grounds  are  beautiful,  laid  out  with  formal  gar- 
dens. It's  kind  of  a  pathetic  affair  with  all  its 
grandeur;  occupied  by  a  grouchy  old  spinster  who 
shuts  herself  up  in  the  house  and  sulks  to  her 
heart's  content.  She  had  a  nephew  whom  she 
doted  on.  He  made  kind  of  a  mess  of  things, 
married  somebody  the  old  girl  didn't  like,  and  — 
Mrs.  Kirby  I  don't  believe  you're  feeling  well. 
Could  I  get  you  a  glass  of  water?  " 

Mrs.  Kirby  drew  herself  together  with  an  ef- 
fort. 

"  I'm  all  right,  thank  you.  I've  been  sewing 
rather  steadily  this  afternoon." 

Henrietta  took  the  work  from  her  mother's 
hands  and  put  it  in  the  work  basket  near  by.  She 
turned  to  Dick. 

"  Yes  —  and  then  what  happened?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  remember  much  about  it  —  it  was 
all  before  my  time.  Father  and  Henry  Crosby 
were  in  college  together.  I've  heard  Dad  tell 
about  him.  Why,  Crosby  married  the  girl.  A 
peach,  too,  father  said;  pretty  and  all  that.  And 
then  he  skipped  out  one  day  and  left  her.  No- 
body every  knew  where  he  went.  You  see,  the 
old  lady's  rowing  so,  and  — " 

Henrietta's  eyes  searched  her  mother's  face  but 


262  Only  Henrietta 

her  glance  met  no  return.  Mrs.  Kirby  was  look- 
ing over  the  photographs  as  Dick  handed  them 
to  her. 

"  I  think  that  a  man  who  would  do  that,  de- 
serves a  dreadful  punishment,"  Henrietta  said, 
with  flashing  eyes.  "  I  could  never  forgive  him. 
Never!  " 

"  It  wasn't  a  very  savory  affair.  Old  Miss 
Crosby  never  forgave  him  either.  They  say  his 
deserting  the  girl  made  her  madder  than  his  mar- 
rying her.  The  Crosbys  all  have  good  stuff  in 
them.  They  aren't  cowards.  But  it's  an  ill  wind 
that  blows  nobody  good.  Rollington  is  going  to 
get  the  Crosby  cash  for  its  public  institutions  some 
day.  Nice  tidy  pile,  too.  Over  a  million." 

Mrs.  Kirby  made  some  flattering  comments  re- 
garding Dick's  family,  and  went  into  the  house. 
Henrietta  took  the  chair  her  mother  vacated. 

u  Tell  me  some  more  about  them,"  she  said. 
"  It's  just  like  reading  a  story.  Didn't  he  ever 
come  back?  " 

u  Not  that  anybody  knows  of." 

"  The  —  the  coward!     I  hate  him !  " 

Richard  Bently  turned  toward  Henrietta  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  You  needn't  get  so  stirred  up  over  it  —  it's 
past  history." 

"  I  don't  care  if  it  is.  She  had  to  suffer  —  the 
girl.  I  know  —  because  — " 


Henrietta  Scores  263 

She  drew  her  chair  closer  to  Dick's  and  peered 
into  the  living-room  to  make  sure  that  her  mother 
had  gone  upstairs.  "  I  know  because  —  because 
a  man  we  know  did  the  same  thing.  He  —  he 
was  related  to  us  —  well  —  it  was  my  father.  I 
might  as  well  say  it  now,  although  I  know  it  isn't 
good  taste  to  speak  of  it  to  anybody;  Mother  al- 
ways told  me  not  to  —  but  I  believe  you'd  under- 
stand. I  couldn't  tell  a  girl  — " 

Dick  reached  over  and  laid  a  hand  on  Henri- 
etta's doubled-up  fist.  He  said  nothing. 

"  And  all  my  life  I've  had  to  —  to  suffer  for  it. 
Why,  you  don't  know  what  it  means  —  not  to 
have  a  father.  How  it  reaches  out  and  hurts  you 
when  you  least  expect  it:  at  school  and  in  little 
clubs  and  with  people  —  They  say,  '  Oh,  she's 
only  so  and  so.'  Only!  I  don't  believe  there's  a 
word  in  the  English  language  can  say  so  much. 
Only  .  .  .  Only!" 

She  wheeled  suddenly  and  looked  into  Dick's 
wondering  eyes.  "  Did  this  man  —  your  father's 
friend,  have  any  children?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I  never  heard." 

"  I  hope  he  didn't.  Oh,  I  do  hope  he  didn't  1 
'Specially  if  she  was  a  girl.  It  doesn't  matter  so 
much  about  a  boy.  If  a  boy's  nice  everybody 
likes  him.  Nobody  ever  thinks  of  where  he 
comes  from  or  who  his  folks  are  or  what  their 
business  is.  There's  a  boy  in  our  school.  His 


264  Only  Henrietta 

father  is  a  shoemaker;  but  you  never  hear  any- 
body say  he's  only  Lester  Davis.  They  say  what 
a  fine  student  he  is,  and  talk  about  his  being  self 
made  and  — " 

"  Henrietta!  "  came  in  clear,  sweet  tones  from 
the  head  of  the  stairs,  "  will  you  attend  to  the  fire, 
please?  " 

"  Yes,  Mother,  I'm  coming." 

Dick  was  on  his  feet  instantly. 

"  I'll  get  the  wood,"  he  said.  He  looked  as  if 
he  wanted  to  say  more,  but  the  words  were  slow 
in  coming,  so  he  gave  the  hand  on  the  chair  a 
brotherly  pat  and  went  off  with  his  photographs 
hurriedly. 

Dinner  was  rather  a  dismal  affair.  Nobody 
wanted  to  talk.  Mrs.  Kirby  was  unusually  silent. 
Henrietta  was  regretting  her  rash  confidence.  All 
three  were  glad  when  the  last  course  was  removed. 

Dick  stirred  the  log  on  the  hearth  to  a  ruddier 
flame  and  went  over  to  the  piano.  He  hesitated 
a  moment  before  lifting  the  lid;  then  he  put  a 
leg  over  the  bench,  slid  along  its  polished  surface 
to  a  comfortable  position  and  touched  the  keys 
lightly. 

Henrietta  was  so  entranced  with  his  music  that 
she  scarcely  knew  how  she  finished  the  dishes. 
When  the  last  cup  and  plate  had  been  put  away, 
the  towels  rinsed  and  hung  behind  the  stove  to 
dry,  she  went  into  the  living-room,  and  dropping 


"  DICK    WAS    QUITE    OBLIVIOUS    OF    HER    PRESENCE  " 


Henrietta  Scores  265 

down  on  the  bear  skin  rug  in  front  of  the  fire, 
hugged  her  hunched-up  knees. 

Dick  was  quite  oblivious  of  her  presence  and  she 
scarcely  stirred  for  fear  of  disturbing  him.  She 
did  not  realize  that  she  was  being  introduced  to 
the  masters,  the  great  composers.  It  was  enough 
to  feel  the  charm:  to  sit  in  the  glow  of  the  fire 
while  her  spirit  wandered  in  fairy  fields. 

She  came  back  to  life  with  a  start  as  he  got  up 
from  the  piano  and  closed  down  the  lid.  His 
genial,  "  Hello,  youngster,  I  didn't  know  you  were 
here,"  brought  her  to  her  feet  quickly. 

"  I  haven't  been,"  she  said,  lifting  dreamy  eyes 
to  the  smiling  lad.  "  Something  in  me  was  up  at 
Silvery  Waters,  listening  to  the  birds  in  the  pine 
trees  and  hearing  the  falls  splash.  What  was 
that  last  thing  you  played?  Do  you  remember?  " 

Dick  ran  his  hand  through  his  hair  and  thought. 
"  Was  it  this?  "  he  asked,  going  back  to  the  piano 
and  playing  a  few  bars. 

"  Yes." 

"  That's  the  Spring  Song  —  Mendelssohn." 

"  My,  but  it's  pretty !  Why  haven't  you  played 
for  us  before?  " 

"  I  have  to  wait  till  the  spirit  moves  me." 

"  Does  it  move  often?  " 

Dick  shook  his  head. 

"  Sometimes  I  can't  keep  away  from  the  piano 
for  days,  and  then  again  I  don't  want  to  touch  it. 


266  Only  Henrietta 

I'm  an   erratic  cuss.     Haven't  you   found  that 
out,  Henrietta?  " 

"I  —  I  think  you're  splendid.  But  you  have 
too  many  talents,  I'm  afraid.  It's  better  to  have 
just  one." 

"  So  it  is,  wise  lady." 

"  You  do  more  with  one" 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  I  just  think  so." 

"  Did  my  pounding  drive  your  mother  off?  " 

"No;  she  was  tired  and  went  to  bed  early. 
She's  been  listening  to  you  out  in  her  bed  on  the 
porch." 

"  I  hope  it  didn't  disturb  her." 

"  Oh,  she  loved  it.  Why  do  you  suppose  some 
people  have  so  many  good  things  given  them  — 
like  your  talents  —  and  others  nothing?  Does  it 
seem  fair  to  you?  " 

"  I  guess  it's  a  good  deal  a  matter  of  inheri- 
tance, Henrietta.  My  father's  an  architect,  and 
my  mother  a  musician.  A  bully  good  one.  You 
see,  it  was  wished  on  me." 

"  I  see;  if  talented  people  marry  they  have  tal- 
ented children.  I  never  thought  of  that  before." 

"  Not  always.  None  of  my  sisters  have  special 
gifts.  They  draw  the  dispositions  and  I  the  tem- 
perament; that  thing  I  told  you  about." 

"Yes;  I  know." 

She  thought  for  a  minute,  soberly. 


Henrietta  Scores  267 

"  I  wonder  what  I  inherit,"  she  said  slowly,  as 
if  the  thought  were  foreign  to  her.  "  I  hope  it 
isn't  the  hair  business  —  though  you'd  hardly  call 
that  a  talent,  I  suppose." 

"  From  those  sketches  you  showed  me,  I  think 
you  have  a  goodly  share  of  art.  Some  of  them 
were  crackerjacks.  That  Miss  Ellwell,  for  in- 
stance. I  met  her  on  the  street  in  the  Springs 
the  other  day  and  I  knew  her  on  the  spot." 

"Oh,  you  didn't!" 

"  Cross  my  heart." 

"  From  my  sketch?  " 

"  The  same.  Do  you  know  it's  time  little 
fourteen-year-olds  were  in  bed?  When  I  was  a 
child  I  thought  as  a  child,  I  slept  as  a  child,  I  — " 

"  I'm  not  a  child." 

"  You  bet  your  life  you're  not!  " 

"What  am  I?" 

"  A  bud  .  .  .  that's  going  to  open  into  a  gor- 
geous flower  some  day.  Good  night.  I  suppose 
I  won't  have  much  of  a  place  in  your  affections  for 
the  next  week  if  Minnie's  coming." 

"  Min's  a  dear  —  but  I  like  you  —  too." 

"  I  thank  you." 

"  Maybe  you'll  like  Min  better  than  you  do 
me  —  or  Nancy.  Nancy's  awful  pretty." 

"  I'll  take  my  choice.  A  garden  of  buds.  I 
wrote  my  mother  that  I'd  landed  on  my  feet,  Hen- 
rietta." 


268  Only  Henrietta 

He  went  out  into  the  night  whistling  softly. 
Henrietta  locked  the  door,  put  out  the  light  and 
went  to  kiss  her  mother. 

The  frail  little  form  on  the  pillow  did  not  stir 
as  she  bent  over  the  bed.  Mrs.  Kirby  was  so  still 
that  Henrietta  leaned  closer  to  see  if  she  really 
breathed.  Her  hand  touched  the  pillow-slip.  It 
was  wet  —  with  tears. 

"  Mother,"  the  child  said,  caressing  the  soft 
black  hair  so  like  her  own.  "  Mother,  are  you  all 
right?  Are  you  sick?  What's  the  matter?" 

"  Nothing,  dear,  run  on  to  bed." 

"  You've  been  crying,  Mother."  There  was  a 
sob  in  the  words. 

"  I  was  just  tired,  precious,  that  was  all." 

"Wasn't  the  music  wonderful?" 

"  I  loved  it,  Henrietta." 

"  It  didn't  disturb  you?  " 

"  No,  dear,  go  to  bed." 

Henrietta  left  three  tender  kisses  on  the  wet 
cheeks  and  turned  toward  the  stairs  with  her  head 
up,  her  hands  clinched. 

"  Oh,  but  I  wish  I  had  you  here,  Mister  — 
Mister  — " 

She  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  a  little 
bewildered. 

"  I  don't  even  know  your  name,"  she  said  below 
her  breath  — "  and  yet  you're  my  father !  That's 
enough  —  just  that  —  to  make  me  hate  you. 


Henrietta  Scores  269 

Mother  said  she  changed  it  to  Kirby  when  she 
came  out  here  —  she  —  oh,  I  can't  think  about  all 
she's  gone  through  on  your  account  —  I  can't. 
It  nearly  kills  me." 

She  closed  the  door  to  her  room  and,  throwing 
herself  across  the  pretty  white  bed,  cried  herself 
to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

SILVERY   WATERS 

WILDWOOD  cottage  was  not  elaborate  of  its 
kind,  but  it  was  complete  and  picturesque.  It 
stood  a  mile  back  from  the  little  village  known  as 
The  Falls,  isolated  in  a  forest  of  pines.  Judge 
Lovell  enjoyed  its  seclusion.  He  usually  spent 
two  months  of  the  year  in  his  mountain  home,  and 
the  house  had  been  built  and  furnished  for  com- 
fort. 

A  wide  veranda,  inviting,  with  deep  chairs  and 
hammocks,  ran  round  three  sides.  The  west  ver- 
anda boasted  a  novelty  that  charmed  Henrietta : 
an  open  fireplace  large  enough  to  accommodate 
four-foot  logs.  She  could  scarcely  await  the  com- 
ing of  the  doctor  and  the  girls.  The  fire  was  to 
be  lighted  for  the  first  time  in  their  honor. 

Henrietta  scarcely  knew  which  she  loved  best, 
the  broad  verandas,  or  the  long  living-room  with 
its  cheerful  rugs  and  bright  chintzes.  The  room 
appealed  to  her  aesthetic  sense.  She  moved  about 
among  the  books  and  pictures,  the  charming  fur- 
niture, with  a  feeling  of  proprietorship. 

Mrs.  Kirby  sometimes  watched  her  in  amaze- 
ment. Henrietta  was  always  so  sure  of  herself, 

270 


Silvery  Waters  271 

her  effects.  Where  had  she  learned  that  yellow 
flowers  should  be  arranged  in  the  brown  Japanese 
basket;  the  columbines  in  the  blue  pottery  bowl? 
Was  it  intuition,  race  —  or  merely  an  eye  for  the 
beautiful? 

"  I  like  to  watch  your  hands  when  you  arrange 
flowers,  Henrietta,"  Dick  said  to  her  one  day  soon 
after  his  arrival.  "  You  touch  the  flowers  so 
respectfully." 

"  Do  I?  "  she  responded  with  brightening  eyes. 
"  I'm  glad.  That  is  the  way  I  feel  about 
them.  I  couldn't  fill  a  vase  with  a  lot  of  flowers 
any  more  than  I  could  stuff  this  lovely  big  room 
with  people.  They'd  suffocate.  So  would  my 
posies." 

But  flowers  were  not  the  only  things  Henrietta 
touched  respectfully.  There  was  a  caress  in  her 
fingers  as  she  handled  Mrs.  Lovell's  treasures: 
the  blue  Canton  bowl;  the  few  pieces  of  exquisite 
china  left  in  the  cottage  for  "company  days"; 
treasured  books. 

"  Hands  are  more  expressive  than  faces,"  the 
boy  declared,  and  Henrietta  agreed. 

"Aren't  they!  That's  what  I  think.  Look  at 
yours.  Anybody  would  know  they  could  paint, 
or  play,  or  —  take  knots  out  of  strings !  " 

She  smiled  whimsically.     The  boy  colored. 

"  They  can  get  a  pretty  good  grip  on  a  foot- 
ball nevertheless !  " 


272  Only  Henrietta 

"  Do  you  play?     So  does  Van  Dyne  Walcott! 
He's  the  halfback  on  our  high  school  team." 
"Bully  for  Tassels!" 
"  He's  perfectly  splendid." 
"Is  he  really!" 

"  And  the  best  looking  boy  in  the  school." 
"  Look  out,  Henrietta.     You'll  make  me  jeal- 


ous." 


u 


Yes  —  you!  Pooh!  I  bet  you've  a  half 
dozen  girls !  " 

"  No  —  only  one." 

"Oh!     Is  she  pretty?" 

"  Very." 

"  What's  she  like?  Why  don't  you  make  post- 
ers of  her?" 

"  I  do." 

"How  old  is  she?" 

"Going  on  sixteen  —  still  going!" 

"  I  'spose  she  has  light  curly  hair  and  blue  eyes. 
The  nice  ones  all  have." 

"  No;  her  hair's  black  —  jet  black.  Her  eyes 
are  blue  —  that  is  they  are  when  she's  nice  and 
sweet.  Sometimes  they  are  as  black  as  a  thunder- 
cloud." 

"  I  don't  think  I'd  like  her,"  Henrietta  said  with 
a  toss  of  her  head.  "  I  prefer  blonds.  Wait 
till  you  see  Min." 

Richard  Bently  went  out  of  the  house  laugh- 
ing. He  had  his  doubts  about  Min.  If  she  was 


Silvery  Waters  273 

as  good  to  look  at  as  Henrietta,  Colorado  cer- 
tainly produced  "  bears." 

On  the  morning  of  the  doctor's  arrival  Henri- 
etta rose  early.  She  wanted  the  house  to  be  at 
its  best  when  he  caught  his  first  glimpse  of  it. 
She  knew  what  he  would  say  when  he  saw  the 
living-room,  the  verandas.  The  sight  of  the  pine 
trees  and  the  falls  would  take  the  little  lines  of 
care  out  of  his  face;  make  him  forget  his  sick 
people. 

So  she  busied  herself,  first  with  the  cleaning 
(for  cottages  will  get  dusty  even  in  the  moun- 
tains) then  with  the  flowers  Dick  brought  in  all 
fresh  and  dewy. 

She  sang  lustily  as  she  swept  and  dusted  the 
guest  rooms,  put  clean  linen  on  the  beds  and 
brought  forth  the  best  towels.  It  was  delightful 
to  get  ready  for  people  one  loved. 

She  lingered  over  the  room  Mrs.  Hughes  was  to 
have.  The  best  white  spread  —  the  one  with  the 
scalloped  edges  and  cut  corners  must  go  on  the 
bed;  the  prettiest  scarf  on  the  dresser. 

It  took  some  time  to  decide  on  proper  flowers 
for  decoration.  She  wished  the  dog  tooth  vio- 
lets were  not  gone;  they  would  have  been  so 
sweet  and  suitable  for  an  old  lady.  But  blue- 
bells were  nice,  too,  and  they  went  beautifully 
with  the  gray  plaster  walls.  Maybe  bluebells 
were  better,  after  all.  They  might  remind  Mrs. 


274  Only  Henrietta 

Hughes  of  the  pasture  down  by  the  creek  at 
home.  Bluebells  grew  'most  everywhere. 

The  room  was  ready  at  last;  even  to  the  pitcher 
and  water  glass  on  the  little  stand  close  to  the 
bed.  And  it  did  look  inviting.  Henrietta  knew 
how  pleased  Mrs.  Hughes  would  be.  She  could 
almost  hear  her  say:  "John,  if  you  just  weren't 
needed  so  down  at  the  Springs,  I'd  like  to  stay  up 
here  the  blessed  summer!  " 

There  was  baking  to  do,  too:  little  tea  cakes 
that  the  doctor  liked  with  his  coffee.  Henrietta 
had  his  mother's  own  recipe. 

It  was  almost  noon  when  she  went  into  the 
kitchen  and  tied  a  large,  blue  checked  apron  about 
her  waist.  Her  mother  was  taking  the  bread  out 
of  the  oven :  six  delectable  loaves  browned  to  a 
turn. 

"  I  don't  see  where  you  ever  had  time  to  learn 
to  cook  so  well,  Mother,"  Henrietta  said  as  she 
got  out  the  yellow  mixing  bowl.  "  Dick  says  he 
never  tasted  such  bread  and  rolls  as  yours  —  and 
your  pie,  too.  That's  a  lot  for  a  New  Englander 
to  say,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Mountain  air  gives  one  an  appetite,  dear. 
You  mustn't  believe  all  Dick  says.  He  likes  to 
make  people  comfortable." 

"Not  always;  he's  a  terrible  tease.  Why, 
what's  that  noise?  Sounds  like  somebody  round 
at  the  front  of  the  house." 


Silvery  Waters  275 

A  loud  "  Hallo  "  followed  the  remark  and  the 
next  Instant  Henrietta  found  her  eyes  blindfolded 
by  two  soft  hands. 

"  Why  —  Min-nie  Has well 7  Where  ever 
did  you  come  from  —  and  Nancy  Dare!  We 
weren't  expecting  you  until  Monday." 

Henrietta  had  freed  herself  from  Minnie's  bear 
hug  and  Nancy's  friendly  kisses. 

"  The  doctor  brought  us  in  his  new  machine. 
He's  out  on  the  porch  looking  at  the  mountain. 
So  is  Mrs.  Hughes.  They're  perfectly  wild  about 
the  country.  Do  you  mind  our  coming?  If  you 
do,  we  can  take  the  train  back.  The  doctor 
came  over  last  night  and  said  that  he  was  com- 
ing up  to-day  and  he  had  two  or  three  extra  seats 
in  the  car  and  he'd  be  tickled  to  death  to  have 
us,  and  we  were  all  ready  to  come  anyway;  been 
packed  up  for  a  week,  and  so  — " 

"  Why,  Min,  I  never  heard  you  say  so  much 
in  one  breath  before  since  I've  known  you !  " 

"  I'm  so  excited.  Oh,  what  a  beau-tiful  spot 
this  is,  and  what  a  fine  house !  I  didn't  dream 
they  had  places  like  this  in  the  mountains.  What 
a  grand  kitchen !  You  could  eat  all  your  meals 
here  if  you  wanted  to,  couldn't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  but  we  don't.  We  dine  in  the  living- 
room,"  Henrietta  said,  with  squelching  dignity. 
"  You  see  —  we  have  a  boarder  —  the  nicest 
young  man  — " 


276  Only  Henrietta 

"  I'm  expiring  to  see  him,  Henrietta.  I  hear 
he's  terribly  good-looking,"  Nancy  interrupted. 
"  Have  you  really  room  for  all  of  us?  I'll  sleep 
on  the  roof  if  you'll  only  let  me  stay.  Van  Dyne 
Walcott  and  Phil  Harrison  came  up  this  morning. 
They've  gone  to  the  hotel.  The  Walcotts  haven't 
opened  their  cottage  yet:  Van  Dyne  told  me  yes- 
terday —  and  say,  Henrietta,  there's  to  be  a  hop 
at  the  hotel  to-night.  Do  you  suppose  we  could 
go?  I  tucked  in  a  white  dress;  it's  old,  but  they 
don't  dress  much  up  here.  Min  brought  her  pink 
organdy.  Do  you  —  think  — " 

The  conversation  was  broken  by  the  advent  of 
the  doctor  and  his  mother.  Mrs.  Kirby  was  lead- 
ing the  way,  remarking: 

"  And  this  is  the  kitchen,  a  lovely  big  sunny 
room." 

Henrietta  was  in  the  doctor's  arms  in  a  twin- 
kling. 

"  Well,  girl,  quite  a  house  you've  got  up  here," 
he  said,  patting  her  shoulders.  "  I  suppose  you 
run  up  to  the  top  of  that  old  green  hill  out  there 
every  morning  before  breakfast." 

"  Hardly  —  oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you;  and 
Mrs.  Hughes,  too.  Yes,  we've  plenty  of  room. 
Plenty.  The  girls  can  sleep  on  the  porch  or  on 
the  davenport  in  the  living-room.  It  opens  out  so 
that  two  people  can  be  real  comfortable,  and  we've 
loads  of  blankets.  There's  a  whole  chest  full." 


Silvery  Waters  277 

"  And  how  about  provisions  ?  Tell  you,  Henri- 
etta, we  were  a  little  afraid  to  descend  on  you  like 
this  without  being  prepared  (he  winked  at  his 
mother),  and  so  we  loaded  up  Betsy — " 

"  Who's  Betsy?  " 

"  Come  and  see." 

They  all  followed  him  to  the  front  yard  where 
a  luxurious  touring  car  stood. 

"  And  you  call  her  Betsy?  That's  lovely.  It's 
so  stylish." 

The  doctor  stroked  one  of  the  shining  fenders 
with  his  hand  affectionately. 

"  She's  a  big  kindly  beast,"  he  said,  "  and  she's 
going  to  take  us  all  over  this  part  of  the  country 
before  she  goes  back  to  town." 

"  Oh,  Doctor  Hughes,  how  wonderful  I 
But  —  how  long  are  you  going  to  stay?  " 

"  How  long  am  I  invited?  " 

Henrietta  looked  at  her  mother. 

"  Just  as  long  as  you  can  remain,"  Mrs.  Kirby 
insisted. 

"  Could  you  stand  us  for  a  week?  " 

"  A  week  —  a  whole  week !  Do  you  really 
mean  it?  "  Henrietta  jumped  up  and  clapped  her 
hands. 

But  the  doctor  was  too  busy  handing  out  pack- 
ages to  answer.  Henrietta's  apron  was  full. 

"  You  must  have  thought  we  didn't  have  any- 
thing to  eat  at  all,"  Henrietta  said,  noting  the 


278  Only  Henrietta 

canned  goods  and  paper  sacks.  "  Mountain 
Falls  has  two  good  stores.  They're  little,  but 
they  hold  a  lot." 

"  John  just  enjoyed  stocking  up,"  his  mother 
said,  and  added,  "  Guess  you'd  better  carry  in  this 
roast,  Son,  and  the  ham  and  bacon.  They're 
pretty  heavy  for  the  girls.  I'll  take  the  basket. 
I  don't  want  you  to  spoil  my  cake." 

It  was  a  merry  party  that  filed  back  to  the 
kitchen. 

Henrietta  took  the  girls  upstairs  to  her  own 
room,  while  the  doctor  and  his  mother  were 
shown  to  theirs. 

"  I  don't  know  just  where  I  will  put  you," 
Henrietta  said,  taking  some  of  her  clothes  out 
of  the  closet.  "  You'll  need  a  place  to  dress 
and  comb  your  hair  in  the  morning.  Oh,  I 
know!" 

She  went  down  the  hall  a  way  and  opened  a 
door. 

"  This  is  the  maid's  room,"  she  said,  stepping 
inside.  "  I've  never  been  in  it  before,  seeing  as 
we  don't  keep  a  maid,  but  —  why,  look !  I't's  as 
nice  as  can  be.  I'll  bring  all  my  things  in  here 
and  you  girls  can  have  my  room." 

"  Why  can't  we  have  this,"  Minnie  said.  "  I 
wouldn't  mind  a  bit." 

But  Henrietta  was  firm. 

"  Certainly  not !     I  won't  be  in  it  except  when 


Silvery  Waters  279 

I  go  to  bed,  anyway.  We  will  be  outdoors  all 
day." 

The  girls  helped  move  Henrietta's  things  and 
she  was  soon  cozily  settled. 

The  room  was  really  very  pleasant.  A  neat 
iron  bed  stood  in  one  corner,  an  oak  dresser  in 
the  other.  White  ruffled  curtains  hung  at  the 
windows  and  a  strip  of  bright  rag  carpet  cov- 
ered the  center  of  the  floor. 

The  mattress  on  the  bed  was  pinned  in  a 
sheet  to  insure  cleanliness.  When  Henrietta 
removed  the  cover  she  found  it  not  only  immac- 
ulate, but  soft. 

"  I  might  have  known  that  Mrs.  Lovell  would 
give  her  maid  as  good  a  bed  as  her  own,"  she 
thought  as  she  sorted  out  sheets  and  blankets  in 
the  linen  closet. 

The  tea  kettle  was  singing  merrily  when  Hen- 
rietta finally  got  down  to  the  kitchen  again. 
Mrs.  Hughes  was  helping  her  mother  "  dish 
up." 

"  You  didn't  make  the  little  cakes,  did  you, 
Henrietta?  "  Mrs.  Kirby  said  with  a  smile. 

"  No;  but  if  folks  will  surprise  you,  they  have 
to  take  the  consequences."  Henrietta's  lips 
pouted  sweetly  in  Mrs.  Hughes'  direction  and 
that  lady  immediately  walked  over  and  kissed 
them. 

"  We  won't  miss  the  cakes,  Henrietta,   for  I 


280  Only  Henrietta 

brought  one.  It's  chocolate.  I  don't  know  but 
what  this  is  as  good  a  time  as  any  to  cut  it." 

"  That  was  just  like  you,  Mrs.  Hughes." 

"  Cookin'  for  me  is  just  play,"  the  dear  old 
soul  admitted.  "  'Tain't  no  chore  at  all.  You 
girls  can  sleep  in  the  morning.  Your  ma  and 
I'll  get  breakfast." 

"  Now,  wouldn't  that  be  nice !  Three  big, 
husky  girls  waited  on.  No  siree!  " 

"  You're  only  young  once,  my  dear.  'Tain't 
going  to  hurt  to  spoil  you  a  little.  You  don't 
know  what  the  future's  going  to  bring.  Coddle 
your  children  while  you  can,  I  say.  They'll  look 
back  and  thank  you  for  it  when  they're  grown 
and  havin'  their  troubles." 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  brought  the  doctor  up?  " 

'Well  —  John  was  never  the  coddlin'  kind. 
Boys  ain't.  I  always  just  longed  for  a  little 
girl  to  wait  on,  and  make  pretty  clothes  for." 

Henrietta  glanced  in  the  dining-room.  The 
table  was  set.  The  doctor  was  walking  around 
impatiently. 

"  If  you  don't  give  me  something  to  eat  pretty 
soon,  girl,  I'm  going  back  to  the  hotel.  I  was 
up  at  six  o'clock  this  morning  and  the  ride  put 
an  edge  on  my  appetite." 

"  It's  ready  now.  Will  you  sit  at  the  head 
of  the  table?  Dick  usually  does,  but  I'd  rather 
have  you  there  —  a  heap.  I'll  sit  between  you 


Silvery  Waters  281 

and  your  mother.  The  girls  can  have  the  other 
side.  Here  they  are  now." 

It  was  a  happy-go-lucky  sort  of  a  meal.  Hen- 
rietta wished  there  might  have  been  a  little  more 
ceremony,  but  one  couldn't  observe  rules  when 
one  had  to  keep  jumping  up  all  the  time  to  serve. 
She  had  never  seen  people  eat  so  much  bread,  or 
drink  so  much  tea.  But,  after  all,  it  really  didn't 
matter.  They  were  so  happy. 

'Where's  this  wonderful  star  boarder  I've 
heard  so  much  about,  Henrietta?"  Nancy  asked, 
when  she  could  get  a  word  in  edgewise.  "  I'm 
simply  dying  to  get  a  look  at  him.  From  the 
sketch  in  your  letter  he  must  be  a  darling  angel." 

"  He  seldom  comes  home  to  lunch,"  Henri- 
etta answered;  but  a  cheery  voice  in  the  doorway 
contradicted  the  remark. 

"  He  did  to-day,  fortunately." 

There  was  an  instant's  hush,  and  then  Dick's 
voice  rose  above  Henrietta's  giggle. 

"  So  Henrietta  has  been  getting  out  advance 
literature,  has  she?  Take  a  good  look  at  me, 
Miss  Nancy  —  or  is  it  Miss  Minnie  I  have  the 
honor  to  address  —  and  see  if  she  did  me  justice." 

He  stood  with  his  cap  in  his  hand  before  Nancy, 
and  the  young  lady  glanced  up  into  the  handsome, 
laughing  face  in  confusion. 

"I  —  I  hardly  see  how  —  she  could,"  she 
said  with  ready  wit. 


282  Only  Henrietta 

"  I  thank  you."  The  blond  head  bent  low  be- 
fore her. 

Mrs.  Kirby  introduced  the  guests  and  Dick 
pulled  up  a  chair  between  Nancy  and  Minnie. 

The  meal  was  well  over  when  Dick  turned  to 
Mrs.  Kirby. 

"  I  was  just  down  at  the  hotel,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  find  they're  going  to  have  a  dance  to-night. 
Can't  we  all  go  down  for  a  whirl?  " 

"Oh,  Mother,  couldn't  we?"  Henrietta's 
eyes  were  like  stars. 

"  I  think  you're  quite  young  for  large  parties, 
dear." 

"  Everybody  goes,  so  they  tell  me,"  Dick 
urged.  "  Even  —  children."  He  smiled  in 
Henrietta's  direction. 

"  Do  let  us,  Mother."  In  the  joy  of  the 
moment  the  insinuation  was  allowed  to  pass. 

"Don't  you  think  we  could,  Mrs.  Kirby?" 
Nancy  begged. 

"  Of  course  you  may  go,"  the  doctor  said  with 
a  generous  wave  of  the  hand.  "  Certainly.  But 
you  must  all  be  in  by  ten  o'clock." 

"Ten  o'clock!  Why,  dances  don't  begin  until 
nine." 

"  Well,  eleven,  then." 

"  Oh,  Doctor  Hughes !  We'd  just  be  getting 
a  good  start." 

"  Twelve  at  the  very  latest!     Anybody  who 


Silvery  Waters  283 

shows  up  at  this  house  a  minute  later  will  be  — 
be  —  put  on  bread  and  milk  for  a  week!  " 

Henrietta  glanced  from  his  laughing  eyes  to 
her  mother's  puzzled  face,  and  all  of  a  sudden 
the  thought  of  what  she  had  missed  came  to 
her :  a  father  —  perhaps  brothers  and  sisters  — 
a  home,  and  family  life. 

How  different  things  would  have  been  if 
Doctor  Hughes  had  always  sat  in  the  armchair 
at  the  head  of  the  table;  how  different  her 
mother's  life.  Perhaps  she  would  not  have  been 
weak  and  ill;  certainly  she  would  never  have  been 
a  hair-dresser. 

"  Goodness,  Henrietta,  you're  looking  as  sol- 
emn as  a  judge!"  Nancy  declared,  leaning 
across  the  table  and  peering  into  her  face. 
"  Don't  you  want  to  go  ?  " 

"I'd  adore  to.     May  we,   Mother?" 

"  I  haven't  any  great  objection,  dear.  Only, 
as  the  doctor  says,  you  must  be  in  by  midnight." 

"  I'll  see  that  they  are,  Mrs.  Kirby."  Dick's 
eyes  twinkled.  "  I  was  telling  Henrietta  the 
other  night  that  when  I  was  a  child  I  slept  as 
a  —  " 

"  And  I  told  you  I  wasn't  a  child !  I  suppose 
you'll  dance  all  the  dances  with  Nancy  because 
she  truly  is  sixteen,  won't  you?" 

"  Well  —  that  depends.  How  about  it,  Miss 
Dare?" 


284  Only  Henrietta 

"  Mother  never  lets  me  give  more  than  two  to 
the  same  boy,  thank  you.  And  please  don't  call 
me  Miss  Dare.  Nobody  does." 

"  Miss  Nancy,  then." 

"  Nancy  will  do.  We'll  wash  the  dishes,  Mrs. 
Kirby.  You  and  Mrs.  Hughes  go  and  sit  on  the 
veranda  with  the  doctor." 

'  What's  to  become  of  me?  "  Dick  asked. 

"  You  may  go,  too." 

"  I  see  I've  lost  my  little  playmate,"  Dick 
sighed,  as  he  picked  up  his  cap  and  took  his  pipe 
from  his  pocket. 

The  door  had  scarcely  closed  on  his  retreating 
form  when  Nancy  fell  upon  Henrietta's  neck  to 
hide  her  blushing  face. 

"  Oh,  Henrietta !  wasn't  it  perfectly  awful,  my 
saying  that,  and  his  coming  in  the  door  just  at 
that  minute  and  hearing  me?  I  thought  I  never 
could  look  him  in  the  face.  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me  he  was  likely  to  bob  up  that  way?  I  sup- 
posed he  was  way  off  tramping  somewhere  or 
something.  Oh,  dear,  I  was  so  mortified." 

"  Nonsense !  I  was  kind  of  glad  it  happened. 
He  just  loves  a  joke.  Isn't  he  good  looking?  " 

"  Good  looking!  My  dear,  he's  the  best  look- 
ing thing  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  So  —  so  —  oh, 
I  don't  know  —  such  class!  He  looks  like  a 
million  dollars.  Collars!  He's  got  those  adver- 
tisements skinned  a  mile." 


Silvery  Waters  285 

"What  do  you  mean  —  collars!"  Henrietta 
gave  Min  a  withering  glance. 

4  Why,  that's  what  you  wrote  me,  Henrietta; 
collars  or  shirts  or  something.  You  said  he  made 
you  think  of  those  advertisements.  I  didn't  think 
you'd  care  if  I  told  Nancy." 

"  I  said  he  was  that  type.     That's  all." 

When  the  dishes  were  dried  and  put  away 
there  was  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Falls;  then  Fashion 
had  to  be  inspected  and  admired,  supper  prepared 
—  and  more  dishes  washed. 

"  Your  mother  and  I'll  do  them,"  Mrs.  Hughes 
insisted.  "  You  girls  run  and  get  ready  for  your 
party.  I  know  how  long  it  takes  girls  to  dress." 

The  next  half  hour  was  a  happy  one.  Such 
a  clatter  issued  from  the  little  pink  room  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs  that  Mrs.  Kirby  could  have 
easily  believed  a  half  dozen  girls  occupied  it. 
Merry  jests,  the  quick  patter  of  steps  up  and  down 
the  hall,  stage  whispers  and  peals  of  laughter 
drifted  to  the  floor  below. 

"  This  must  be  just  the  way  girls  do  at 
boarding-school,"  Minnie  said,  as  she  tried  to 
get  a  peek  in  the  mirror.  "  My,  but  you're  going 
to  look  nice,  Henrietta.  Let  Nancy  comb  your 
hair.  She  gets  such  a  fine  do  on  it" 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  Nancy  agreed,  jumping  up 
from  the  little  chair  in  front  of  the  dressing-table 
and  pushing  Henrietta  into  it. 


286  Only  Henrietta 

She  smiled  mischievously  as  she  brushed  and 
combed. 

"  Would  you  do  it  real  nice  —  or  make  her 
a  fright,  Min?  I  don't  want  her  to  outrival 
me." 

"  You  couldn't  make  a  fright  of  Henrietta  if 
you  tried  all  night,"  said  loyal  Min. 

"  You'd  better  do  the  best  you  can  with  my 
hair,  Nancy,  for  I  haven't  a  party  dress,  you 
know.  Mother's  making  me  one,  but  it  isn't 
done.  I'll  have  to  wear  my  white  Peter  Tom." 

"  There's  nothing  you  look  better  in,  and  it's 
so  suitable  for  the  mountains.  It's  such  a  lovely 
one,  too.  Where  did  you  get  it?" 

Min  adroitly  changed  the  conversation.  Hen- 
rietta was  relieved.  She  hated  to  say  that  it  was 
one  Mary  Helen  Bradford  had  outgrown. 

They  were  ready  at  last  for  inspection.  Mrs. 
Kirby  turned  Henrietta  around,  mother  fashion, 
gave  her  dress  a  final  brushing  and  smoothed  the 
dark  hair  tenderly. 

"  You  all  look  very  sweet  indeed;  if  your  man- 
ners are  as  nice,  you'll  have  nothing  to  wish  for," 
she  said. 

"  Except  a  lot  of  boys  to  dance  with,"  Min- 
nie remarked.  "  That's  the  main  thing  at  a 
party." 

Dick  stood  waiting  in  the  living-room,  very 
stunning  in  his  white  flannels,  Nancy  thought. 


Silvery  Waters  287 

"  Come  on,"  he  said,  "  here  are  your  bugs; 
handle  them  gently." 

He  put  a  rough  home-made  lantern  in  each  out- 
stretched hand. 

"  Why,  what  are  they  for,  Henrietta?  "  Minnie 
asked  with  astonished  eyes. 

"  To  light  the  path  down  to  the  hotel.  Did 
you  think  we  had  electric  lights  up  here  in  the 
country?  Not  much.  We  make  them  out  of 
syrup  and  lard  cans.  You  stick  a  candle  in. 
They're  just  dandy." 

"  But,  Henrietta,  they  look  so  —  smoky  —  and 
funny!" 

Nancy  screwed  up  her  lips  in  disdain. 

"  No,  they're  not.  I  just  love  them.  They 
twinkle  like  firebugs  through  the  pine  trees  and 
they  seem  so  friendly.  Just  don't  get  yours  too 
near  your  coat.  Are  we  ready?  " 

It  was  a  merry  procession  that  filed  down 
the  trail,  Indian  fashion.  Dick  led,  singing  a 
topical  song  in  which  all  joined.  It  seemed  to 
Henrietta  that  the  hotel  was  reached  in  a 
bound. 

"  It'll  seem  even  shorter  coming  back,  Henri- 
etta," Dick  remarked. 

"Why?" 

"Tassels  will  light  the  way.     Won't  he?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  I  don't  expect  a  ghost  of  a  show  when  he 


288  Only  Henrietta 

comes  on  the  scene.  But  I'm  not  going  to  stand 
for  any  philandering." 

"Philandering?  What  on  earth  is  that?  I 
almost  believe  you've  swallowed  the  dictionary. 
I  never  heard  of  anybody  who  knew  so  many 
words." 

"  You  flatter  me." 

"  What  does  it  mean  —  phil  —  phil  what  did 
you  call  it?  " 

"  Philandering.  Look  it  up  in  Webster.  You 
are  going  to  learn  a  lot  about  it  in  the  next  few 
years." 

"  Is  it  something  nice?  " 

"  Delightful" 

The  dining-room  at  the  hotel  had  been  cleared 
for  dancing  and  the  squeak  of  a  fiddle  floated  out 
into  the  summer  night. 

"  That's  a  two-step,"  Nancy  said.  u  I  can 
hardly  wait.  Are  you  fond  of  the  two-step,  Mr. 
Bently?" 

It  was  only  natural  after  such  a  remark  that 
Dick  should  lead  off  with  Nancy.  Minnie  and 
Henrietta  stood  by,  looking  a  little  dazed. 

"  Well,  I  like  that,"  Henrietta  declared. 
"  Taking  him  off  under  my  very  nose.  I  knew 
Nancy  would  get  the  most  attention.  Nobody 
cares  anything  about  girls  who  are  only  fourteen." 

"  Oh,  yes  they  do,  Henrietta.  Look  at  Van 
Dyne  last  year.  He  was  crazy  about  you." 


Silvery  Waters  289 

"  Pooh !  Van  Dyne !  He's  only  a  boy. 
He's  only  sixteen  himself.  Nancy  just  scorns 
him." 

"  Except  when  nobody  else  is  around." 

"  Well,  I'm  not  going  to  talk  about  her  when 
she's  my  guest.  Besides,  I  like  her.  I  don't 
blame  Dick.  I  guess  I'm  jealous,  that's  all." 

"  You're  always  so  honest." 

"  You  have  to  be  —  something.  I'm  not 
much  else." 

"  He  might  at  least  have  found  us  some  seats," 
Minnie  complained. 

"  He  didn't  mean  to  be  rude.  He's  such  a 
gentleman.  Nancy  just  looked  at  him  so  —  so 
wishful  and  almost  put  out  her  arms.  I  noticed 
it.  She  loves  to  dance." 

They  wandered  across  the  room  and  found 
seats  beside  some  elderly  ladies  who  were  watch- 
ing the  dance  with  interest. 

"  Why,  Henrietta,"  a  pleasant  voice  said. 
"How  are  you?  Is  your  mother  well?" 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Bradford  —  yes  —  better,  thank 
you." 

"  You  must  be  enjoying  Mrs.  Lovell's  beauti- 
ful cottage." 

"  We  love  it.  Isn't  the  Falls  a  wonderful 
place?  Is  Miss  Mary  Helen  here?  Oh,  I  see 
her  now.  How  pretty  she  looks." 

Henrietta's  eyes  followed  a  tall,  fair  girl  who 


290  Only  Henrietta 

was  dancing:  a  sweet-looking  girl,  very  much  like 
Henrietta  in  build,  but  more  developed.  Mary 
Helen  was  past  eighteen  and  tasting  the  first 
sweets  of  society. 

Henrietta  and  Minnie  chatted  awhile.  The 
dance  was  a  long  one,  with  several  encores. 

Mrs.  Bradford  held  up  her  lorgnette  to  her 
short-sighted  eyes.  She  seemed  to  be  very  much 
interested  in  some  one  on  the  floor.  Presently 
she  turned  to  Henrietta. 

"  Could  you  tell  me  who  that  charming  young 
man  is  with  Nancy  Dare,  Henrietta?  He  is  so 
attractive." 

4  Why,  yes.  He's  staying  with  us.  He's  a 
friend  of  Mrs.  Lovell's  from  the  East.  His 
name  is  Richard  Bendy." 

'  To  be  sure.  I  am  so  glad  to  know  he  is  here. 
Mrs.  Lovell  spoke  to  me  about  him.  She  was 
very  anxious  to  have  him  meet  Mary  Helen. 
When  he  is  through  dancing  I  would  like  to  have 
you  bring  him  to  me.  I  promised  Mrs.  Lovell 
to  do  all  I  could  to  make  his  stay  pleasant. 
We  must  ask  him  over  to  dine." 

Henrietta's  heart  went  down  with  a  sickening 
thud.  She  knew  what  that  meant.  If  Mrs. 
Bradford  got  her  hands  on  Dick  it  was  good-by 
to  summer  frolics  and  strolls. 

"  Mrs.  Lovell  says  he  is  wonderfully  talented," 
Mrs.  Bradford  went  on,  "  really  quite  an  artist." 


Silvery  Waters  291 

"  He  draws  wonderfully.     I  love  his  posters." 

"  He's  something  of  a  musician,  too,  isn't 
he?" 

"Yes;  Mrs.  Bradford." 

"  How  very  nice.  He'll  be  an  acquisition  to 
the  Falls  this  summer.  Mary  Helen  is  to  have 
a  house  party  next  week.  She'll  be  delighted  to 
introduce  him." 

When  the  dance  was  finished  Henrietta  did 
as  she  was  bidden.  She  presented  Dick  to  Mrs. 
Bradford  in  her  best  manner.  Mrs.  Bradford  in 
turn  presented  Mary  Helen:  and  Mary  Helen's 
friends,  Dorothy  Armatage  and  Barbara  Trent. 
Barbara  Trent  was  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of 
young  people,  so  she  included  her  friends  in  the 
introduction.  The  little  faction  represented  Good 
Springs'  ultra  smart  set. 

"  It's  well  you  got  your  dance  when  you  did," 
Henrietta  remarked  to  Nancy  as  the  group  moved 
to  more  exclusive  quarters.  "  We'll  see  nothing 
more  of  Dick  to-night.  Mrs.  Bradford  has 
nailed  him.  Here  comes  Van  Dyne  and  Phil. 
Guess  we  ought  to  be  glad  they're  here,  anyway." 

The  evening  wore  on  stupidly.  Van  Dyne 
was  tiresome.  Henrietta  wondered  why  she  had 
never  noticed  it  before.  His  jokes  were  without 
point,  flat. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Henrietta?" 
Van  Dyne  asked,  puzzled.  "  You've  changed  an 


292  Only  Henrietta 

awful  lot  in  three  weeks.  You're  way  up  in  the 
clouds." 

"  I'm  just  tired.  We've  had  an  exciting  time 
to-day,  the  girls  coming  and  all.  We  went  up  to 
the  Falls  this  afternoon.  It's  quite  a  pull. 
Would  you  just  as  soon  dance  this  waltz  with 
Nancy?  I  want  to  go  out  on  the  porch  and  cool 
off." 

"  You'd  better  look  out,  you'll  catch  cold. 
Shall  I  get  your  sweater?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.     I  never  catch  cold." 

She  felt  ill  at  ease,  chagrined.  It  was  rather 
a  joke  to  come  with  the  best  dancer,  the  most 
attractive  man  in  the  room,  and  then  have  him 
throw  her  over  as  one  would  a  cast-off  toy.  And 
yet,  she  couldn't  blame  Dick.  Mary  Helen  and 
her  crowd  were  much  more  interesting.  They 
were  his  kind  of  people,  too. 

She  wandered  out  on  the  porch  and  stood  for 
a  minute  gazing  in  on  the  dancers.  Van  Dyne 
and  Nancy  whirled  by,  Van  Dyne  looking  a  bit 
sullen.-  Phil  and  Minnie  passed,  too,  laughing 
and  joking.  Minnie  stopped  in  the  corner  and 
held  her  side  with  mirth.  Phil  was  explaining 
something  at  great  length.  Henrietta  wondered 
how  Min  could  find  him  funny.  He  always  bored 
her. 

She  was  about  to  go  back  in  the  room  when 
she  heard  footsteps  coming  down  the  west  end 


Silvery  Waters  293 

of  the  veranda.  They  stopped  just  around  the 
corner.  She  was  hidden  from  sight. 

"  Let's,  sit  here  a  minute,"  Mary  Helen  Brad- 
ford said  in  her  quick  staccato  tones,  and  Dick's 
voice  answered: 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  rather  chilly.  May  I  get  you 
a  wrap?  " 

Henrietta  hated  an  eavesdropper,  but  the 
porch  was  free  to  every  one,  so  she  stood  still 
leaning  against  the  wall.  She  heard  Mary  Hel- 
en's answer: 

"  Thanks;  don't  bother.  I'm  used  to  mountain 
breezes.  What  a  heavenly  night !  Did  I  under- 
stand you  to  say  you  were  with  Mrs.  Kirby? 
Nice  little  woman,  isn't  she?  So  much  above  her 
station." 

"  Mrs.  Kirby  has  been  very  good  to  me." 
Dick's  voice  was  full  of  gratitude. 

"  And  I  suppose  Henrietta  has  shown  you  the 
interesting  places;  rather  a  nice  child,  isn't  she?  " 

"  Henrietta's  a  peach!  " 

"  And  really  very  pretty." 

"  More  than  that,  I  think."  Dick's  tones  were 
judicial.  "  She's  the  most  original  child  I  ever 
saw  —  so  nai've." 

"  Really?  Of  course  I  know  her  very  slightly. 
Her  mother  takes  care  of  our  hair  —  mother's 
and  mine."  Mary  Helen  laughed  a  low,  musical 
laugh.  "  Perhaps  that  sounds  strange,  but  I 


294  Only  Henrietta 

assure  you  a  hair-dresser  is  a  necessary  adjutant 
to  Colorado's  climate.  One's  hair  dries  up  as 
well  as  one's  face.  Let  me  see,  how  old  is  Hen- 
rietta ?  " 

It  was  Dick's  turn  to  laugh. 

"  Henrietta  is  going  on  sixteen  —  going,  going, 
going,  —  but  she's  only  on  the  first  lap  of  young 
ladyhood.  .  .  ." 

Mary  Helen  laughed  again.  "  I  see.  She 
wants  to  grow  up.  Children  are  so  amusing. 
Mrs.  Lovell  has  been  very  much  interested  in  her. 
She  seems  to  think  her  quite  unusual.  Too  bad 
she  can't  have  better  advantages.  They  are  very 
poor." 

The  voice  drifted  away  toward  the  ball  room 
and  Henrietta  stood  drawing  in  her  breath 
sharply. 

That  was  the  way  people  felt  about  her !  That 
she  was  a  little  nobody  ...  a  hair-dresser's 
daughter!  And  very  poor! 

She  edged  back  to  the  window  and  looked  in  on 
the  dancers.  Dick  was  waltzing  with  Mary 
Helen.  She  was  looking  up  into  his  face  and 
laughing.  Perhaps  they  were  still  talking  of  her. 
Perhaps  — 

Tears  filled  Henrietta's  eyes,  and  then  a  sudden 
heat  came  upon  her.  A  flame  swept  before  her 
eyes.  She  clutched  the  blouse  of  the  white  Peter 
Tom  and  tore  it  open  madly,  viciously. 


Silvery  Waters  295 

"  I  won't  wear  your  old  clothes  any  longer, 
Mary  Helen  Bradford!  You  just  see  if  I  do! 
I  hate  you !  I  was  good  enough  till  you  came  — 
good  enough  to  stand  round  hour  after  hour  for 
him  to  draw  —  to  show  him  all  the  pretty  places. 
.  .  .  Now  look  at  him!  —  doesn't  know  I'm  on 
the  earth,  but  I'll  show  him  —  and  you,  too  — 
you  just  wait!  I  won't  always  be  Henrietta 
Kirby,  wearing  people's  cast-off  clothes.  I'll  — " 

The  words  ended  in  a  deep  cry.  Henrietta 
darted  off  the  porch  and  out  into  the  darkness. 
She  walked  swiftly,  blindly.  Her  only  thought 
was  to  get  away  —  anywhere,  any  place  so  that 
people  could  not  hear  the  sobs  that  rose  in  her 
throat  and  stifled  her. 

She  scarcely  knew  how  far  she  had  gone  in 
the  inky  blackness  when  she  felt  something  sniff 
at  her  heels  and  turned  suddenly.  For  a  second 
the  sob  turned  to  joy. 

"  Bounder!  Nice  old  doggy!  Did  you  come, 
too?  Has  he  forgotten  you?  Oh,  Bounder, 
Bounder! " 

She  sat  down  on  the  green  earth  and  buried 
her  face  in  the  brindle  neck.  A  rough  tongue 
reached  out  and  licked  the  warm  tears;  a  paw 
begged  for  an  answering  caress. 

"  Oh,  Bounder,  it's  so  awful  to  be  different 
from  other  people;  to  have  them  think  you  aren't 
anybody,  and  wear  their  old  cast-off  things.  You 


296  Only  Henrietta 

don't  know  how  it  feels  —  you  can't  —  you're 
only  a  dog,  but  you're  the  best  of  your  kind  — 
you've  got  blue  ribbon  blood  —  he  said  so  — 
He's  proud  of  it.  If  you  were  just — just  plain 
dog  he  wouldn't  want  you  —  he's  an  aristocrat  — 
like  her." 

Bounder  couldn't  speak,  but  he  continued  to 
make  frantic  efforts  to  shake  hands,  and  Henri- 
etta caught  the  offered  paw  and  held  it  tight. 
It  seemed  so  warm  and  friendly  —  even  under- 
standing. 

"  I'm  so  tired  of  it,  Bounder.  It's  the  same 
at  school  and  everywhere  —  everywhere!  As 
soon  as  they  know  we're  hair-dressers  —  hair- 
dressers. I  don't  know  what  there  is  in  me  that 
makes  me  so  ashamed  of  it,  but  there's  something 

—  something  —  I  try  not  to  hate  it,  not  to  care 

—  if  we  were  only  dressmakers  it  wouldn't  be  so 
bad,  but  —  No,   Bounder,   I  know  you're   sorry, 
but  you  mustn't  kiss  my  face  —  it  isn't  sanitary. 
He  said  you  wouldn't  come  to  me  —  I  showed 
him  —  Didn't  I?     I'll  show  him  something  else. 
I  can  get  you  so  you  won't  look  at  him.      It  would 
serve  him  right,  too,  when  he  brought  me  here  and 
then    forgot    all    about    me  —  You    can    forget, 
too  —" 

She  squeezed  the  brown  palpitating  throat  and 
kissed  the  white  star  between  Bounder's  eyes. 
Then  she  bade  him  lie  quiet  and  hunched  her 


Silvery  Waters  297 

knees  up  under  her  chin  to  think.  How  was  she 
going  back  to  the  ball  room  with  swollen  eyes 
and  a  torn  dress?  Why  must  she  always  lose 
her  temper?  Why  did  something  always  come 
up  in  her  breast  and  choke  her  —  bring  a  red 
flame  before  her  eyes? 

"  I  must  stop  it,"  she  said,  "  /  must.  I'll  go 
crazy  if  I  don't.  Some  day  I'll  do  something  aw- 
ful —  I  might  even  hurt  some  one.  Just  now  I 
wanted  to  tear  Mary  Helen's  white  dress  and 
those  shining  beads  from  her  throat.  Oh,  I 
mustn't!  I  mustn't!  She's  been  good  to  me. 
I  wouldn't  have  had  any  nice  clothes  at  all  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  her.  She  saved  them  all  for  me. 
She  said  nice  things  about  me  to-night.  Oh,  I'm 
so  wicked  and  ungrateful.  If  things  don't  go 
just  the  way  I  want  them  to  I  get  mad." 

She  got  up  unsteadily  and  reached  out  her  arms 
toward  the  blue  vault  above. 

"  You'll  have  to  help  me,"  she  said  as  if  she 
were  talking  to  a  person.  "  You  must!  If  you 
don't,  pretty  soon  it'll  be  too  late.  I'll  fight  it  out, 
but  you'll  have  to  show  me  how  —  please,  dear 
God  —  please.  Something  whispers  to  me  — 
something  says  hate  —  hate.  Then,  when  I  cool 
down,  I  want  to  love  the  very  one  I've  hated.  I 
want  to  make  up  —  to  everybody  except  one  — 
my  father.  I  can't  forgive  him.  I  never 
will.  You  mustn't  ask  me." 


298  Only  Henrietta 

Bounder  had  risen,  too,  and  stood  waiting  for 
her  to  move.  She  reached  down  to  pat  him,  and 
a  sudden  thought  struck  her. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Bounder,  just  a  minute  till  I 
get  my  bug.  I  left  it  on  the  tree  and  there's  a 
match  in  my  pocket.  We'll  go  up  to  Silvery 
Waters,  you  and  I.  I  always  go  there  when  I'm 
blue  and  want  to  think.  I'm  so  hot.  I  want  to 
cool  off.  I'll  get  my  coat  in  the  dressing-room. 
Nobody  will  see  me.  I  can  slip  in  the  side  door. 
You  wait  for  me.  I  won't  be  a  minute." 

They  were  halfway  up  the  mountain  before 
she  spoke  again. 

"  It's  a  little  spooky  here  in  the  pines,  Bounder, 
but  I'm  not  afraid  with  you.  There's  nothing 
to  be  afraid  of,  anyway.  Listen  to  those  pretty 
night  noises:  the  little  furry  things  have  all  gone 
to  bed  so  you  can't  chase  them.  As  soon  as  we 
get  up  to  the  Falls,  we  can  see  better.  The  pine 
trees  aren't  so  thick  there.  Look  at  the  evening 
star,  Bounder.  Did  you  «ver  see  anything  so 
pretty?  I  wonder  if  it's  a  world  —  if  people  live 
there;  people  who  get  mad  and  have  hateful  dis- 
positions. Come  on.  We're  pretty  near  now. 
Hear  the  water  splashing?  Are  you  tired? 
You're  panting  like  everything.  Isn't  it  wonder- 
ful to  be  out  in  the  night  alone  ?  The  world  looks 
so  big,  you  feel  like  you  were  a  part  of  things, 
don't  you?  —  the  stars  and  the  sky  and  the  trees." 


Silvery  Waters  299 

She  rambled  on.  The  dog  climbed  steadily  at 
her  heels.  Once  he  stopped  and  sniffed  the  green 
turf. 

But  she  reassured  him.  "  Silly!  It  was  only 
a  chipmunk.  He  heard  us  coming  and  thought 
we  were  after  his  winter  groceries.  Cunning 
thing!  Helen  Hunt  Jackson  just  loved  'em. 
She  wanted  to  be  buried  where  she  could  know 
they  were  scampering  round  her.  '  Let  all  the 
tiny,  busy  creatures  creep;  Let  the  sweet  grass 
its  last  year's  tangles  keep.'  That  is  what  she 
said.  Miss  Ellwell  made  us  learn  the  poem  by 
heart  last  winter.  I've  got  her, to  thank  for  that 
—  if  I  don't  like  her." 

They  were  at  the  top  at  last.  Henrietta  had 
climbed  like  a  deer.  But  she  was  a  little  spent, 
and  dropping  down  on  the  ground  tried  to  con- 
trol her  breathing. 

"  If  it  just  didn't  make  you  puff  so!  "  she  said, 
holding  her  hand  to  her  chest.  "  But  it's  worth 
the  pull.  Oh,  oh,  isn't  it  glorious!" 

She  put  the  bug  firmly  on  the  ground  and  looked 
up  at  the  stars.  She  could  see  more  plainly  now. 
She  was  almost  blinded  at  first,  coming  from  the 
lighted  ball  room. 

She  sat  very  still  for  awhile  listening  to  the 
strange  night  sounds.  Somewhere  above  them  an 
owl  hooted,  and  a  hawk  winged  by. 

Bounder  was  restless.     He  scampered  over  the 


300  Only  Henrietta 

rocks  and  out  into  the  darkness.  Henrietta  whis- 
tled softly  and  he  came  back  with  a  bound:  such 
a  bound  that  Henrietta  cried  out  in  dismay: 

"  Oh,  Bounder !  Just  see  what  you've  done ! 
You've  knocked  over  the  bug.  My  light's  out! 
Whatever  will  we  do?  I'll  never  find  the  path 
home.  Oh,  you  naughty,  naughty  dog!  " 

There  was  a  note  of  terror  in  her  voice.  To 
be  in  the  heart  of  a  mountain  with  a  light  to  find 
your  way  home  was  one  thing  —  total  blackness 
another. 

She  was  so  quiet  for  a  minute  that  Bounder 
licked  her  hand  and  put  out  his  paw  anew. 

"Stop  —  don't!  Let  me  think!  What  can 
we  do?  Mother  will  be  frantic  if  I  don't  get 
home.  Stop,  stop,  Bounder !  Quiet!  " 

Her  voice  trembled.  Bounder  crouched  down 
beside  her  and  put  a  paw  in  her  lap. 

"  If  I  had  a  match,"  she  whispered.  "  It  was 
so  stupid  to  bring  only  one  —  Oh,  Bounder,  what 
was  that?  I  thought  I  heard  something  moving 
—  Bounder!  Quiet,  I  say!  Don't  —  you 
frighten  me." 

The  next  ten  minutes  seemed  an  eternity  to 
Henrietta.  She  tried  to  think,  but  the  hor- 
rible darkness  clouded  her  brain  as  well  as  her 
eyes. 

"  I  guess  we've  just  got  to  stay  here  until  day- 
light," she  said  to  the  dog,  who  had  settled  down 


Silvery  Waters  301 

at  her  side.  "  There's  nothing  else  to  do.  May- 
be it's  a  good  thing.  I'll  have  time  to  think 
things  out.  I'm  not  half  so  'fraid  with  you  here 
—  good  old  Bounder.  Come  closer.  That's  it. 
Put  your  head  in  my  lap." 

She  sat  upright,  cringing  at  every  sound:  but 
by  and  by  she  grew  familiar  with  the  queer  noises: 
that  was  a  screech  owl  crying;  a  magpie  calling 
sleepily;  the  brook  hurrying  to  reach  the  falls  and 
take  a  plunge. 

The  thought  of  her  mother  gave  her  a  spasm 
of  pain.  She  would  be  so  frightened.  So  would 
Mrs.  Hughes  and  the  doctor.  It  was  a  nice  way 
to  treat  guests,  running  off  up  into  the  mountains 
just  because  you  couldn't  dance  with  a  person  you 
liked.  Perhaps  God  was  punishing  her  for  her 
dreadful  temper. 

She  fell  to  wondering  how  she  could  curb  it. 
She  thought  of  a  number  of  ways  and  resolved 
to  try  them;  next  time  she  would  count  a  hundred, 
or  bite  her  lip  till  the  blood  came;  shut  her  eyes 
tight  and  wait  until  the  hot  flame  passed. 

Once  she  got  up  and  tried  to  find  the  trail:  but 
she  might  as  well  have  tried  to  find  a  path  to  the 
sky. 

Bounder  pattered  after  her.  She  sat  down 
again  and  pulled  her  coat  about  her  throat.  The 
air  was  cold;  bitter  cold.  Maybe  she'd  get  pneu- 
monia. She  almost  wished  she  might.  Dick 


302  Only  Henrietta 

would  be  so  sorry.  Perhaps  he  would  realize  it 
was  all  his  fault. 

The  hours  dragged  on.  She  believed  that  she 
would  have  frozen  but  for  Bounder's  warm  body 
snuggled  close  to  hers.  She  put  her  arms  around 
his  shoulders  and  dropped  her  head  on  his.  She 
must  have  dozed  after  awhile,  for  she  sat  up  sud- 
denly with  a  start,  trying  to  remember  where  she 
was.  She  thought  she  heard  a  shout  down  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain.  Bounder  bristled,  but  she 
quieted  him  and  went  back  to  doze  on  his  warm 
neck. 

She  slept  intermittently.  Shivers  crept  up  and 
down  her  back  and  her  hands  grew  numb  with 
cold.  Was  it  only  this  afternoon  she  had  snow- 
balled the  girls  up  here  —  it  seemed  ages  ago. 
Bounder  was  cold  too,  his  flesh  quivered.  She 
covered  him  with  part  of  her  coat  —  hugged  him 
closer.  Dear  old  Bounder.  Dick  had  said  he 
was  a  snob. 

Only  once  was  she  thoroughly  frightened. 
Something  cried  in  the  forest.  It  sounded  like  a 
kitten  at  first,  then  like  a  small  child.  She  had  to 
hold  Bounder's  collar  with  both  hands  —  the 
spikes  cut  into  her  flesh. 

"  Bounder,  please,  please  don't,"  she  entreated. 
"  That's  a  panther  —  there  are  some  left  up  here. 
I  heard  Dick  say  so.  Oh,  Bounder,  don't, 
don't!"  Her  voice  rose  to  a  wail.  "If  you 


Silvery  Waters  303 

chase  it,  it  will  kill  us  both.  Mr.  Haswell  told 
me  how  they  cried  —  just  like  a  baby  —  a  baby 
who  wanted  its  mother  —  Oh,  Bounder  I  want  — 
my  mother.  .  .  ." 

She  was  whispering  to  the  dog  frantically;  be- 
seeching him  to  lie  still.  The  cry  in  the  forest 
beyond  died  away  and  she  tried  to  sleep  again. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HENRIETTA    ENTERTAINS 

"  DIDN'T  I  say  that  if  you  were  not  in  by  twelve 
o'clock  last  night  you'd  be  fed  on  bread  and  milk 
for  a  week,  young  lady?  Come,  take  this  nourish- 
ment." 

Henrietta  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  at  Doc- 
tor Hughes.  Her  mother  stood  near  with  a  tray 
in  her  hands. 

"  How  do  you  feel,  girl?  "  The  doctor  looked 
anxious. 

"All  right  —  I  guess.  Where  am  I?  At 
home?  Where  are  the  girls  and  —  Dick?  " 

'  They're  sleeping,  my  dear.  Mountain  climb- 
ing in  the  dead  of  the  night  with  the  thermometer 
at  zero  is  a  little  strenuous;  especially  in  party 
clothes.  Wonder  is  that  I  haven't  the  whole  lot 
of  you  on  my  hands." 

Henrietta  would  have  thought  Doctor  Hughes 
cross  except  that  he  stooped  and  left  a  kiss  on  her 
cheek. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  Henrietta  began,  and  went  back 
to  sleep. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  she  opened 
her  eyes  again.  She  was  on  the  davenport  in  the 

304 


Henrietta  Entertains  305 

living-room  and  Dick  was  sitting  beside  her  dozing 
in  his  chair.  She  watched  him  covertly  for 
awhile.  His  face  seemed  a  little  drawn.  Her 
moving  wakened  him. 

"  Hello,"  he  said.     "  Want  a  drink?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.     Where's  Mother?  " 

"  Asleep." 

"Where's  Doctor  Hughes?" 

"  Asleep." 

"And  his  mother?" 

"  Asleep." 

'  Why  am  I  down  here  on  the  davenport  at 

this  time  of  the  day?     It's  afternoon,  isn't  it?" 

'  Yes.     They    brought    you    here    when    they 

found  you  early  this  morning.     There  was  a  no 

fire  upstairs.     You  were  very  cold." 

"  Oh!  And  why  is  everybody  asleep?  "  Hen- 
rietta's voice  sounded  rough  and  harsh.  She 
could  scarcely  use  it. 

''  They're  all  resting.  They  had  rather  a  bad 
night.  You're  not  to  talk." 

"Why?" 

"You  have  a  cold?" 

"  Is  it  pneumonia?  " 

"  We  hope  not." 

"  Well,  it  isn't.     Dick?  " 

11  Yes." 

"  I'm  awful  sorry.  I  didn't  mean  to  scare  you 
all.  It  —  it  just  happened.  .  .  ." 


306  Only  Henrietta 

"  I  guess  we  can  stand  it  if  you  can.  You  had 
the  worst  end." 

"Who  found  me?" 

"  You're  not  to  talk,  Henrietta." 

'  Just  tell  me  that,  please.  I  was  asleep  and 
so  tired  out  —  I  couldn't  see  in  the  dark." 

11  I  found  you." 

"  How  did  you  know  where  to  look?  " 

"  I  didn't,  at  first.  Then  I  remembered  after 
we  had  scoured  the  burg  that  you  said  you  always 
went  up  there  when  you  were  blue.  I  thought 
maybe  —  I  say,  Henrietta,  I  was  a  piker  to  treat 
you  the  way  I  did  last  night.  I  got  in  with  those 
girls  and  there  were  so  few  men.  Once  I  was 
introduced,  I  had  to  make  the  rounds.  I  thought 
maybe  you  felt  neglected.  I  didn't  blame  you. 
I  told  you  that  you  couldn't  always  trust  me." 

"  I  can't  always  trust  myself,  Dick." 

Her  voice  sounded  far  away,  indistinct. 

"  The  doctor  said  you  were  to  take  this  stuff 
if  you  woke  up.  Come,  now,  be  a  soldier. 
There.  Good  girl!  Another  nap?  All  right, 
go  to  it." 

He  tucked  the  covers  round  her  snugly  and 
sat  watching  the  clear  profile  long  after  she 
slept. 

It  was  morning  when  Henrietta  awoke  again. 
She  felt  better.  Her  head  was  clear.  She  wasn't 
so  anxious  to  go  back  to  sleep.  She  ate  the  toast 


Henrietta  Entertains  307 

her  mother  brought  and  asked  for  more.  The 
doctor  beamed  at  her  happily. 

"  Henrietta,"  he  said,  soberly,  "  you've  cheated 
me  out  of  a  case.  I  didn't  know  whether  you 
were  going  to  pull  up  from  this,  or  not." 

Henrietta  smiled.  u  I  like  to  climb,"  she  said, 
and  they  both  laughed. 

"  Confine  your  exercises  to  daylight  next  time, 
honey  girl." 

It  was  the  first  and  the  last  time  the  escapade 
was  mentioned,  but  Henrietta's  conscience  spoke 
through  her  diary. 

"  August  2nd,  19  — . 

"  I  was  lost  at  Silvery  Waters  the  other  night 
for  hours.  I  had  a  light,  but  Bounder  knocked 
it  over,  so  we  couldn't  find  the  way  back.  It  was 
pretty  spooky  part  of  the  time,  but  Bounder  was 
a  lot  of  company  when  he  wasn't  trying  to  chase 
things.  He  nearly  frightened  me  to  death  once 
trying  to  get  a  panther.  We  heard  it  cry  as  plain 
as  anything.  I'm  sorry  I  frightened  the  family. 
They  must  have  been  terribly  scared  until  they 
found  me,  though  nobody  has  said  a  word,  and  I 
hate  to  open  the  subject.  I'm  going  to  tell  Min 
about  it  some  day  when  I  get  her  alone. 
Mother's  never  asked  a  thing.  She's  such  a 
brick.  I  think  she  guessed  something  went  wrong 
at  the  party  and  I  lost  my  temper.  I  did.  For 


308  Only  Henrietta 

good.  I  hope  I'll  never  find  it  again.  I  had  a 
lot  of  time  up  there  in  the  dark  to  think  how  hor- 
rid I  am, —  blazing  away  like  I  do  every  time 
things  don't  suit  me.  I  found  a  Japanese  motto 
in  a  book  to-day  that  made  me  feel  better.  It 
said:  'Look  upon  wrath  as  thy  enemy.  If 
thou  knowest  only  what  it  is  to  conquer,  and  know- 
est  not  what  it  is  to  be  defeated,  woe  unto  thee! 
It  will  fare  ill  with  thee.' 

"  It  made  me  quite  comfortable.  I  know  de- 
feat about  as  well  as  anybody.  I  wrote  the  quo- 
tation down  in  my  note  book.  I  had  a  terrible 
cold  for  two  days,  but  am  all  right  again  now.  I 
guess  if  Doctor  Hughes  hadn't  been  here  I  might 
have  died.  Mother  said  he  didn't  leave  me  for 
hours  after  they  found  me.  My,  but  I  love  him  1 
I  wish  he  was  my  father.  That  is  —  oh,  of 
course,  not  that  I  want  him  to  —  Goodness,  but 
I'm  silly  —  always  wishing  things  that  can't  hap- 
pen —  only  I  do  believe  he  likes  mother  —  aw- 
fully. But,  of  course,  she's  still  married  to  fa- 
ther, even  if  he  did  run  away. 

"  My  good  times  that  I  planned  with  Dick  are 
all  over.  Mary  Helen  Bradford  is  quite  crazy 
about  him.  Anybody  would  be.  I  am  not  blam- 
ing her.  They  asked  him  to  dinner  last  night  and 
to  a  coaching  party  to-day  and  something  else  to- 
morrow. Nancy's  just  sick  about  it.  She 
thought  because  he  asked  her  to  dance  first  she 


Henrietta  Entertains  309 

was  going  to  have  quite  a  case  with  him.  Life  is 
so  uncertain.  Especially  with  men.  They  are 
often  the  chaff  of  circumstances  blown  hither  and 
•yon.  (I  think  that  sounds  real  well.)  If  Mary 
Helen  hadn't  been  spending  the  summer  at  the 
Falls  and  Dick  hadn't  come  out  from  the  East  for 
his  health  and  met  her  —  well  —  who  knows  what 
might  have  happened?  Dick  doesn't  like  me  to 
say  he's  here  for  his  health.  He's  not  a  bit  sick, 
but  last  year  he  took  cold.  It  was  at  the  Thanks- 
giving football  game,  and  his  folks  thought  a  sum- 
mer in  the  mountains  would  tone  him  up.  I  be- 
lieve it  will,  if  Mary  Helen  doesn't  wear  him  out. 
I  don't  think  it's  good  for  delicate  people  to  be  on 
the  go  all  the  time.  I  believe  I'll  tell  him  so.  I 
ought  to  help  him  all  I  can  because  he's  Mrs. 
Lovell's  friend.  I  overheard  him  saying  some 
very  nice  things  about  me  to  Mary  Helen  the 
night  of  the  dance.  I  don't  see  why  it  didn't 
make  me  happy  instead  of  mad  at  Mary  Helen. 
I  know  what's  the  matter  with  me.  I  lack  judg- 
ment. Seems  to  me  I  lack  about  everything  peo- 
ple ought  to  have.  I  hear  the  girls  coming  now 
and  I  must  desist  though  I  could  write  on  for 
hours. 

"  P.  S. 

"  I  looked  up  *  philander.'     It  means  either  a 
woolly  opossum  of  South  or  Central  America,  or 


310  Only  Henrietta 

to  make  love  triflingly.  I  suppose  Dick  meant  the 
latter.  '  Nai've '  means  having  unaffected  sim- 
plicity or  unsophisticated.  I  don't  know  whether 
it's  a  compliment  or  not." 

Three  days  of  the  doctor's  visit  had  gone,  and 
Henrietta  had  spent  two  of  them  in  bed.  She 
wasn't  a  very  cheerful  looking  object  yet,  for  her 
cold  was  still  disagreeable.  Her  mother  insisted 
on  a  flannel  cloth  about  her  neck,  although  Doctor 
Hughes  made  fun  of  it. 

"  I  don't  mind  it  so  much  now,"  Henrietta  de- 
clared, giving  the  offending  thing  a  twist,  "  but 
Mother  will  just  cut  it  off  by  inches  until  there's 
only  a  string.  It  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  were  going 
to  be  hung." 

"  But,  dearest,  if  I  take  it  off  all  at  once  it 
leaves  your  throat  exposed,  and  it  is  very  sensi- 
tive after  such  a  dreadful  cold." 

They  were  at  breakfast  and  Dick  turned  the 
tide  of  the  conversation. 

"  Better  stay  with  it,  Henrietta,"  he  said. 
"  I've  something  to  propose  for  the  day  after  to- 
morrow. You've  got  to  be  up  to  par." 

Nancy  looked  up  expectantly. 

Henrietta  turned  to  Minnie  as  if  she  didn't 
hear. 

"  Dear,  Dick  is  speaking  to  you,"  her  mother 
reminded. 


Henrietta  Entertains  311 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon !  " 

u  I  say  I  have  something  on  for  day  after  to- 
morrow. Don't  make  any  engagements." 

"  Do  tell  us  what  it  is,"  Nancy  insisted. 

Dick  answered  Nancy,  but  his  gaze  was  on  Hen- 
rietta. 

"  Why,  I  find  I  can  get  the  coach  the  Bradfords 
had  yesterday  and  take  you  all  for  a  ride." 

Minnie  clapped  her  hands  softly  and  Nancy's 
eyes  brightened. 

Henrietta  said  nothing. 

"  How  about  it,  Henrietta?  "  Dick's  tones  were 
rather  injured. 

u  I'm  very  sorry  —  but  I  can't.  I'm  going  on 
a  picnic.  I  think  I'll  have  to  go.  I  promised  Van 
Dyne  —  you  see,  when  you're  in  a  crowd,  and  up 
here  in  the  mountains  where  there  are  so  few  girls, 
you  have  to  kind  of  go  the  rounds." 

Dick  smiled,  but  his  face  grew  scarlet. 

"  I  see.     How  about  the  next  day?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  the  day  Doctor  Hughes  is  going 
to  take  us  all  to  Pike's  Peak.  I  wouldn't  miss  it 
for  anything.  I've  been  longing  to  get  up  there 
ever  since  I  can  remember." 

"  I'm  sorry."     Dick  rose  from  the  table. 

"  I  am,  too,  but  maybe  Miss  Mary  Helen  could 
get  up  something.  She  seems  awful  nice  about 
planning  things." 

Dick  made  no  response.     He  went  out  to  the 


312  Only  Henrietta 

cabin  and,  sitting  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed, 
lighted  his  pipe  thoughtfully. 

"  Little  monkey!  "  he  said  half  aloud.  "  She's 
the  rarest  bit  of  child  and  woman  I've  ever  seen. 
Jealous  as  the  dickens  over  what  happened  the 
other  night.  Well,  I  can't  say  I  deserve  a  medal 
for  the  way  I  acted.  It  was  rather  raw.  Jove, 
I'm  glad  she  pulled  through !  I  thought  she  was 
dead  when  I  picked  her  up.  She  might  have  been, 
only  for  you,  old  shakes." 

The  dog  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  put  his  head 
between  his  master's  knees. 

'  You're  hers  for  keeps  now,  old  man.  When 
I  pull  out  of  here,  I'll  present  you.  It  hurts  some, 
too.  We've  been  pals  for  a  long  time." 

He  put  his  head  down  on  Bounder's  neck  and 
tweaked  the  trimmed  ears  affectionately.  Then 
he  went  out  to  the  barn,  saddled  Nero  and  put  off 
for  the  mountains. 

Henrietta  did  not  lose  much  time  after  he  left. 
She  turned  to  Nancy  and  Minnie: 

"  I  wonder  if  you  girls  would  mind  if  I  rode 
down  for  the  mail  about  eleven  o'clock?  "  she 
asked.  "  I  haven't  been  out  of  the  house  for  sev- 
eral days  and  the  doctor  said  it  wouldn't  hurt  me 
if  I  went  when  the  sun  was  high." 

The  girls  urged  her  to  go,  since  they  had  been 
having  the  use  of  Fashion  and  Nero  for  two  days. 
She  set  off  with  a  light  heart. 


Henrietta  Entertains  313 

Fashion  took  a  mild  trot  until  the  bend  of  the 
road  hid  Wildwood  cottage  from  sight,  then  she 
galloped. 

The  postoffice  was  crowded.  The  mail  was 
just  being  distributed.  Henrietta  peered  through 
the  crowd  anxiously.  Her  eyes  were  rewarded, 
for  the  object  of  her  interest  turned  the  corner 
and  came  into  full  view. 

"  Van  Dyne !  "  she  called  to  the  good-looking 
youth  who  came  toward  her,  cap  in  hand. 

"  Hello,  Henrietta !  "  Van  Dyne  exclaimed. 
"Able  to  sit  up  and  take  nourishment  again? 
Gee,  but  you  gave  us  a  scare  the  other  night." 

Henrietta  plunged  into  her  errand." 

"  Van  Dyne,"  her  tones  were  soft  and  coax- 
ing, "  you  know  that  picnic  we  were  planning  the 
other  night  at  the  party?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Don't  you  suppose  we  could  have  it  day  after 
to-morrow?  You  see,  Nancy's  only  going  to  stay 
a  week,  and  my  catching  an  awful  cold  —  the 
color  deepened  —  sort  of  spoilt  three  days,  so  — " 

"  Doesn't  make  any  difference  to  me. 
Where'll  we  go?" 

"  I  thought  we'd  have  lunch  at  a  place  I  adore 
about  halfway  up  the  mountain,  near  the  Falls. 
Then  we  could  go  on  up  to  the  top  afterward  and 
watch  the  sunset." 

"  Surely  —  that  will  be  fine." 


314  Only  Henrietta 

"All  right;  we'll  take  the  lunch,  and  I  guess 
we  ought  to  start  about  noon.  If  we're  going  to 
stay  until  evening  we  needn't  hurry.  I  wonder  if 
you'd  mind  getting  the  mail  for  me;  box  126. 
And,  Van  Dyne,  you  and  Phil  come  over  to-night. 
We'll  take  up  the  rugs  and  dance." 

Van  Dyne  had  hoped  to  be  rewarded  with  a 
little  visit  when  he  came  out  with  the  mail,  but 
Henrietta  was  hurried. 

"  I've  left  the  girls  at  home,"  she  explained, 
and  rode  away,  triumphant. 

The  afternoon  was  given  over  to  preparation 
for  the  evening;  there  was  fudge  to  make  and 
cookies  to  b'ake.  Mrs.  Hughes  lent  a  hand  at 
the  cookies  and  Nancy  and  Minnie  had  time  for  a 
ride  before  dinner. 

The  evening's  amusement  began  with  a  huge 
fire  which  Dick  and  Doctor  Hughes  built  in 
the  outside  fireplace.  Henrietta  was  enchanted. 
The  roaring  flames  threw  grotesque  shadows  on 
the  pines;  lighting  up  the  mountain  in  crimson 
patches. 

There  were  tales  and  riddles;  jokes  and  experi- 
ences related  before  the  steady  blaze  of  the  sea- 
soned old  logs,  and  ghost  stories  filled  a  thrilling 
hour. 

When  the  time  came  for  toasting  marshmal- 
lows,  Doctor  Hughes  and  his  mother  followed 
Mrs.  Kirby  back  into  the  living-room  where  an- 


Henrietta  Entertains  315 

other   fire   blinked   sleepily   on   the   wide   hearth. 

The  doctor  stirred  the  embers  to  a  ruddier 
flame  and  sat  down  in  the  big  chair.  Mrs. 
Hughes  was  tired.  She  went  on  up  to  her  room. 

Etta  Kirby  paused  beside  the  doctor  to  say 
good-night. 

"  Don't  leave  me  all  alone  with  this  nice  fire," 
he  begged,  and  pulled  a  deep  chair  close  to  his 
own. 

Etta  Kirby  sat  down  hesitatingly. 

"  I  suppose  I  really  ought  to  stay  up  and  see 
that  Henrietta  serves  her  refreshments  properly. 
Do  you  know,  Doctor  Hughes,,  this  is  the  first 
party  the  child  ever  had  in  her  life?  Think  of 
it!" 

"  It  seems  fairly  successful,  judging  from  the 
noise,"  he  replied. 

For  peals  of  laughter  rang  out  in  the  still  night, 
mingled  with  shivery  ohs,  from  the  girls. 

"  Yes;  she's  having  a  wonderful  time;  the  kind 
of  a  time  a  young  girl  should  have.  So  many 
things  have  been  denied  her  —  and  yet  —  some- 
times when  I  see  the  girls  down  at  the  Springs 
driving  their  own  motors;  running  about  the  town 
at  all  hours,  indulging  in  pleasures  until  they  are 
restless  and  bored  with  life  before  twenty,  I  am 
almost  glad  Henrietta  has  had  the  hard  side. 
Perhaps  you  can't  quite  understand  what  I  mean, 
but—"  ' 


316  Only  Henrietta 

She  pulled  her  chair  a  little  way  from  the  doc- 
tor, nearer  the  fire. 

'  You  see,  my  work  takes  me  into  so  many  rich 
families.  I  hear  girls  speak  rudely  to  their 
mothers,  find  fault  with  luxuries  that  appall  me 
—  they  are  so  grand.  I  can't  help  wondering 
what  they  are  laying  up  for  themselves.  Will 
they  be  content  with  what  life  brings  them  after 
such  a  surfeit,  or  are  they  too  soft  and  poorly 
trained  to  meet  responsibility?  " 

4  You  are  rather  an  unusual  mother,"  Doctor 
Hughes  commented — "if  you  see  things  in  that 
light." 

"  I  haven't  always.  I've  rebelled.  Oh,  so 
terribly.  I  wanted  to  save  Henrietta,  to  smooth 
the  way.  But  it  was  impossible.  You  see,  I  was 
the  bread  winner." 

"  Yes." 

"  I've  tried  to  coddle  her,  up  here,  but  it's  too 
late.  She  doesn't  want  it.  She's  taken  almost 
complete  charge  of  the  cottage.  I'm  very  proud 
of  her  housekeeping." 

Mrs.  Kirby  hesitated. 

"  Henrietta  has  much  to  overcome  in  her  dis- 
position," she  went  on  presently.  "  She  has  a 
great  deal  of  force  if  it  is  turned  in  the  right  di- 
rection. She  is  honest,  and  exceedingly  truthful. 
I've  built  high  hopes  on  that.  No  matter  how 
self-willed  she  is,  and  sometimes  she  has  tried  my 


Henrietta  Entertains  317 

patience  to  the  breaking  point,  she's  always 
straight  and  square  about  things.  It's  a  good 
deal  to  build  on,  isn't  it?  I  mean  in  the  way  of 
character." 

The  voice  was  low  and  appealing. 
'  You   needn't   worry   about   Henrietta,    Mrs. 
Kirby.     I've  watched  her  closely.     She's  going  to 
take  her  place  in  the  world,  be  a  power  some- 
where —  if  her  mother  is  spared  to  guide  her." 

Doctor  Hughes  knew  the  moment  the  words 
left  his  mouth  that  he  had  bungled;  alarmed  her 
unnecessarily.  She  shrank  back  in  her  chair  and 
looked  at  him  with  frightened  eyes. 

"  Is  my  case  so  serious  —  so  far  advanced  — 
that  —  that — " 

She  could  not  finish  the  words.  The  thought 
of  leaving  Henrietta  was  so  terrible,  so  unthink- 
able. .  .  . 

Doctor  Hughes  reached  over  and  unlocked  the 
hands  that  were  clasped  together  nervously.  He 
held  them  in  his  own  for  a  minute  in  a  tight  grasp 
and  looked  in  the  clear  eyes  steadily. 

"  It's  only  because  of  Henrietta,"  Mrs.  Kirby 
went  on,  as  if  she  dreaded  what  he  might  say  and 
would  forestall  it.  "  If  anything  should  happen 
to  me  she  would  be  so  alone, —  so  utterly  bereft. 
There  is  no  one  — " 

"  Henrietta  would  not  suffer.  Give  me  the 
right  to  protect  her,  Etta.  Let  me  be  her  father. 


318  Only  Henrietta 

Let  her  have  my  name,  my  home.  Be  my 
wife  — " 

He  tried  to  draw  her  into  his  strong  arms,  but 
Mrs.  Kirby  drew  back  and  loosened  his  hands. 

"  Don't,"  she  said,  almost  in  a  whisper. 
"  Don't,  please.  You  don't  know  what  you  are 
asking.  How  impossible  — " 

"  You  must  know  that  I  love  you." 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  —  you  mustn't'' 

"  It  is  too  late  to  say  that,  Etta.  I  have  loved 
you  so  long;  ever  since  that  first  day  in  the  hos- 
pital, I  think.  You  seemed  to  need  me  so;  to 
cling  to  me  — " 

"  Please,  please  don't.  You  hurt  me.  It  can 
never  be  —  never,  Doctor  Hughes,  never,  be- 
cause — " 

The  hands  were  pressed  together  again  in 
agony.  Doctor  Hughes  loosened  them  tenderly. 

"  Because,  yes?  " 

"  Because  —  my  husband  —  Henrietta's  father 
still  lives.  Some  day  he  is  coming  back.  Some 
day  — " 

The  face  of  the  man  beside  her  grew  white, 
and  the  hands  that  held  hers  trembled. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  His  eyes  were  still  tender, 
worshipful.  "  He  is  coming  back  —  coming  back 
to  claim  you?  And  you  feel  that  it  is  your  duty 
to  live  with  him  —  because  of  Henrietta.  Is 
that  it?" 


Henrietta  Entertains  319 

Etta  Kirby  accepted  the  suggestion  thankfully. 
She  could  not  wound  him :  this  splendid  man  who 
was  offering  her  the  finest  thing  he  had  to  give  — 
his  love;  his  name.  She  could  not  tell  him  that 
she  was  rejecting  him  for  a  man  who  had  forsaken 
her,  neglected  her.  She  could  not  marry  him, 
of  course  —  that  was  out  of  the  question  even  had 
she  loved  him  —  neither  could  she  tell  him  that 
she  still  loved  Henry  Crosby  —  it  seemed  unnec- 
essarily cruel. 

'  You  have  not  answered  me,"  Doctor  Hughes 
said  pleadingly.  "  Is  it  because  of  Henrietta?  — 
or  is  it  —  can  it  be  possible  that  you  still  love 
him?" 

There  was  a  deathly  silence  for  a  minute.  The 
big  clock  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  ticked  audibly 
and  a  peal  of  silvery  laughter  floated  in  from  the 
veranda  —  Henrietta's  laugh. 

The  silence  deepened.  Etta  Kirby  could  not 
find  voice  to  speak.  Doctor  Hughes  rose  and 
took  two  swift  turns  about  the  room.  He  paused 
in  front  of  Mrs.  Kirby,  towering  above  her,  su- 
perb in  his  strength  and  manhood. 

"  I  think  I  understand,"  he  said  brokenly  — 
"  understand.  If  I  had  known  I  should  never 
have  spoken.  You  must  forgive  me  —  forgive 
me  and  let  me  serve  you  in  any  way  —  that  you 
find  possible.  Perhaps,  after  all,  friendship  " — 
the  words  came  with  effort — "  friendship  is  a  bet- 


320  Only  Henrietta 

ter  thing  than  love  —  it  reaches  greater  heights 
—  demands  greater  sacrifice.  Remember,  that  1 
am  always  at  your  service  —  yours  and  Henri- 
etta's." 

He  stooped,  and,  taking  both  her  hands, 
crushed  them  in  his  own  for  a  moment  and  then 
kissed  them  passionately. 

The  door  opened  and  Henrietta  stood  on  the 
threshold  smiling. 


CHAPTER  XX 

PHILANDERING   DEFINED 

EVERYBODY  was  later  for  breakfast  the  morn- 
ing after  the  party.  The  older  people  had  almost 
finished  when  Henrietta  and  the  girls  came  down- 
stairs. Dick  strolled  in  shortly  after. 

"  I'm  afraid  we're  making  you  a  lot  of  trouble, 
Mrs.  Kirby,"  he  said  with  his  frank  smile. 

Mrs.  Kirby  shook  her  head  as  she  poured  his 
coffee.  Henrietta  passed  the  hot  biscuits  and 
crisp  bacon.  "  Here's  some  jam,  too,"  she  said, 
putting  the  little  silver  pot  down  before  him. 
"  It's  wonderful.  Mother  made  it  out  of  the  wild 
raspberries  we  found  the  other  day." 

Dick  helped  himself  generously.  As  he  ate  he 
watched  Henrietta's  face.  He  half  believed  she 
had  forgiven  him,  she  was  so  happy  and  ani- 
mated this  morning. 

"  You  must  have  had  a  good  sleep  last  night, 
Henrietta,"  he  remarked.  "  You're  blooming 
this  morning.  Let's  finish  that  sketch  of  you  I 
started  the  other  day.  I  must  be  getting  it  off  to 
market." 

"  Yes,  Henrietta,"  her  mother  said.  "  The 
girls  will  excuse  you  for  an  hour,  I'm  sure." 

321 


322  Only  Henrietta 

"  But  I  have  to  get  ready  for  my  —  the  picnic." 

Dick  noticed  the  slip. 

"  Is  it  your  picnic,  Henrietta?  I  feel  slighted. 
Why  am  I  not  invited?  " 

Henrietta  hedged. 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you'd  care  for  such  young 
folks.  You  seem  to  enjoy  older  people." 

Dick  looked  at  Nancy. 

"Will  you  invite  me?"  he  asked  boldly. 

"  Why  —  yes  —  of  course,  if  Henrietta  doesn't 
mind.  She's  getting  it  up  —  she  and  Van  Dyne." 

"  How  about  it,  Henrietta  ?  " 

"  Why  —  if  you  really  want  to  go,  I  don't 
mind." 

"  But  it  wouldn't  give  you  any  special  pleas- 
ure? " 

Henrietta  wished  he  wouldn't  smile  in  such  a 
nice  way.  It  took  every  bit  of  the  hard  feeling 
out  of  her.  She  rather  wanted  to  be  disagreeable. 

"  We'd  like  you  —  of  course.  If  you  wouldn't 
be  bored.  We're  not  going  until  noon,  but  we're 
going  to  stay  for  the  sunset.  If  we  get  up  high 
enough  we  can  see  it  just  fine." 

"  And  you  know  how  I  feel  about  mountain 
sunsets,  Henrietta;  your  punishment  is  more  than 
I  can  bear." 

"  /  haven't  been  invited,  either,"  the  doctor 
remarked,  putting  a  lump  of  butter  in  the  heart 
of  a  biscuit. 


Philandering  Defined  323 

"  But  you  said  you  were  going  down  to  the 
Springs  for  an  operation.  I  wish  you  wouldn't! 
I  think  a  man  who's  inconsiderate  enough  to  get 
sick  on  a  doctor's  vacation  ought  to  —  have  some- 
thing happen !  " 

"  Henrietta !  "  Mrs.  Kirby  gasped. 

"  Well,  not  die,  exactly  —  but  —  get  another 
doctor.  Of  course  I  don't  want  anybody  to  die, 
Mother.  You  take  everything  so  seriously." 

'  Then  I  have  my  choice  —  an  operation  or  a 
picnic!  Which  would  you  choose,  Henrietta?" 

"  The  operation,  of  course,"  Henrietta  admit- 
ted without  hesitation.  "  I  don't  blame  the  man  a 
speck.  I  wouldn't  have  anybody  but  you  —  for 
worlds.  But  I  do  wish  he'd  have  selected  another 
day.  We'd  love  to  have  you  on  our  picnic.  And 
Dick,  too, —  of  course." 

Dick  looked  at  Henrietta  as  he  passed  his  plate 
for  more  bacon  and  potatoes. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  he  said.  "  We'll 
take  my  camera  and  get  a  lot  of  pictures.  I  want 
to  send  them  East.  They  don't  know  that  peaches 
grow  in  the  mountains." 

The  compliment  was  so  obvious  that  Nancy  and 
Minnie  blushed  becomingly.  Henrietta  was  too 
accustomed  to  Dick's  banter  to  pay  much  atten- 
tion. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  Nancy  said.  "  If 
you'll  play  for  us  for  an  hour  or  two  this  morn- 


324  Only  Henrietta 

ing  we'll  take  you  on  our  picnic.  Is  that  a  bar- 
gain?" 

"  Surely.  This  is  one  of  my  playing  morn- 
ings. I  felt  the  mood  coming  on  when  I  woke 
up." 

"  Lovely !  We'll  try  some  of  those  Moskowski 
duets." 

Minnie  helped  Henrietta  with  the  housework 
while  Mrs.  Hughes  and  Mrs.  Kirby  sat  with  their 
sewing  on  the  veranda.  Henrietta's  party  dress 
was  almost  finished:  a  sheer,  white  girlish  frock 
such  as  mothers  love  to  put  hours  of  handwork  on 
when  they  have  the  time.  Henrietta  looked  for- 
ward to  its  christening:  Dick  was  going  to  make 
a  poster  of  her. 

Sounds  of  Dick's  music  reached  the  rooms  up 
stairs,  where  Henrietta  and  Minnie  were  making 
beds  and  putting  things  to  rights.  When  the 
house  was  in  order,  Minnie  wanted  to  write  letters. 
She  got  out  her  lavender  note  paper,  pretentiously 
engraved  with  a  gold  H,  and  set  to  work  at  Hen- 
rietta's desk  in  the  pink  room:  though  Henrietta 
assured  her  that  she  would  never  get  anything 
done  with  the  old  Green  Mountain  peeking  in  the 
window  and  the  birds  playing  in  the  branches  of 
the  pines. 

Henrietta  went  downstairs  and  curled  up  on 
the  davenport  in  the  living-room.  Dick  and 
Nancy  were  occupying  the  piano  bench,  working 


Philandering  Defined  325 

in  snatches  of  music  between  conversation.  Dick 
was  telling  of  a  musician  who  was  a  mystic.  He 
illustrated  a  couple  of  movements  on  the  piano, 
and  Nancy  hung  on  every  tone. 

Henrietta  finally  gathered  that  they  were  talk- 
ing about  a  shadow  dance,  and  that  there  were 
three  notes  to  two  in  it  —  a  fact  which  interested 
Nancy  greatly,  for  she  kept  saying  "  how  wonder- 
ful !  " 

Henrietta  was  about  to  go  out  on  to  the  veranda 
when  Dick  said: 

'  This  isn't  very  interesting  to  you,  Henrietta, 
but  if  you'll  wait  a  minute  we'll  play  some  Spanish 
dances." 

"  And  they're  lovely,"  Nancy  added,  turning 
her  attention  to  the  notes  before  her. 

The  music  was  beautiful,  there  was  no  denying 
that,  but  Henrietta  preferred  to  listen  to  Dick 
alone  in  the  glow  of  the  firelight,  so  she  wan- 
dered up  stairs. 

Minnie  was  still  scratching  away  at  the  desk, 
absorbed  in  her  correspondence. 

"  I  don't  think  anybody  would  miss  me  if  I 
took  Fashion  out  for  an  hour,"  Henrietta  thought, 
and  got  into  her  riding  clothes. 

She  gave  Fashion  the  reins  after  they  had  gone 
a  little  way.  Fashion  responded  to  her  mood  and 
took  the  road  to  Solitude,  loitering  along  the  way, 
now  and  then  stooping  to  snatch  a  mouthful  of 


326  Only  Henrietta 

grass  or  to  drink  greedily  from  the  clear  mountain 
stream. 

It  was  a  clear,  lazy  summer  morning.  The 
soft  air  caressed  Henrietta's  cheeks  and  blew  lit- 
tle tendrils  of  hair  into  her  eyes  and  about  her 
white  neck.  Fashion  plodded  along  the  path 
contentedly,  choosing  her  own  gait  and  desti- 
nation. 

'  Yes,"  Henrietta  said  when  the  horse  turned 
and  tried  to  feast  intelligent  eyes  upon  her, 
"  you've  got  a  little  goosie  on  your  back  this  morn- 
ing, but  there  are  -times  when  girls  like  to  be 
geese." 

She  slipped  from  the  saddle  after  awhile  and 
led  Fashion  through  a  maze  of  wild  flowers. 
"  Mind  where  you  step !  "  she  admonished,  pull- 
ing her  out  of  the  way  of  bluebells  and  colum- 
bines. "  If  you  tramp  on  one  of  those  darling 
things,  I'll  have  to  tie  you  up." 

When  she  came  to  an  open  space  —  a  place 
where  white  birch -trees  vied  with  pines,  and  flow- 
ers ran  riot,  she  dropped  down  on  the  ground  to 
dream.  Fashion  was  allowed  to  graze  in  a  patch 
of  sweet  grass. 

Somewhere  above  her  a  brook  tinkled  and 
splashed  on  its  way  to  the  Falls.  It  was  the  only 
sound  that  broke  the  stillness. 

"  Seems  just  like  Sunday  morning,"  Henrietta 
said  half  aloud,  "  but  maybe  that's  because  I  feel 


Philandering  Defined  327 

so  worshipful.  I  always  do  —  up  here  —  where 
everything  is  hushed  and  still." 

She  put  her  head  down  close  to  Mother  Earth 
and  ran  her  finger  through  the  loose  mold.  There 
was  something  about  the  contact  that  delighted 
her,  put  her  on  friendly  terms  with  Nature.  When 
she  had  dug  to  her  heart's  content  she  climbed  to 
the  brook,  and  loitered  among  the  ferns  and  wet 
moss  that  hid  behind  trunks  of  trees  and  in  shady 
nooks;  drew  polished  stones  from  the  creek's  bed; 
trailed  her  hand  idly  in  the  cool  stream.  It  was 
an  hour  of  sheer  abandon  and  delight. 

She  was  thinking  of  returning  home  when  a 
step  and  a  merry  whistle  startled  her.  The  next 
instant  Dick  came  in  sight. 

"  Hello,  Henrietta,"  he  said,  surprised. 
'  What  are  you  doing  in  the  wilderness?  " 

"  Just  loving  it.  Where's  Nancy?  I  thought 
you  were  going  to  play  all  morning." 

"  We  did.     It's  noon  now." 

"  Noon !  Oh,  dear,  what  will  the  girls  think 
of  me.  I  didn't  dream  that  it  was  anymore  than 
eleven." 

Dick  dropped  down  on  a  broad  rock,  scattering 
his  sketching  materials  on  the  ground. 

"  What's  your  hurry?  It's  an  hour  until  lunch. 
Come  over  here,  I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

He  made  room  for  her  on  the  rock.  Henrietta 
sat  down  silently. 


328  Only  Henrietta 

"  Have  you  forgiven  me,  Henrietta?  "  the  boy 
asked,  trying  to  meet  her  eyes  under  their  droop- 
ing lashes. 

"  Forgiven  you?     What  for?  " 

lt  Neglecting  you  the  other  night." 

"  I'd  rather  not  talk  about  it  —  please." 

"Why?" 

"Oh,  because!" 
'  The  usual  woman's  reason." 

"Not  a  child's?"  Henrietta's  tones  were  sur- 
prised. 

"  Oh,  you  have  spells  of  growing  up.  You've 
been  quite  sixteen  —  and  more  the  past  few  days." 

"Have  I?" 

"  Henrietta,  you  wouldn't  believe  me  if  I  told 
you  that  I'd  rather  dance  with  you  than  any  of 
those  people  I  met  at  the  party  the  other  night; 
now,  would  you?  " 

"Certainly  not.     Why  should  I?" 

"  Because  it's  true." 

The  blue  eyes  lifted.  They  were  a  trifle  scorn- 
ful. 

"Why  didn't  you,  then?" 

"  I  explained  to  you,  Henrietta." 

"  I  didn't  think  it  was  a  very  good  excuse.  But 
it  doesn't  matter.  I  don't  like  to  quarrel  up  here 
—  it  —  kind  of  breaks  the  stillness  and  the  peace, 
doesn't  it?" 

"Yes;  rather." 


Philandering  De-fined  329 

"  I  don't  care  any  more,  anyway." 

"  You're  sure  about  that?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  often  get  mad  and  then  can't  re- 
member what  it  was  all  about.  You  see,  my  tem- 
per just  —  heats  up.  When  it  cools  down  I  see 
things  plainer.  There  wasn't  anything  to  really 
get  mad  about.  Something  happened  that  should 
have  made  me  glad.  I  just  didn't  choose  right  — 
that  was  all." 

Dick  looked  at  the  flowering  face  beside  him. 
The  eyes  were  brightening  —  the  lips  pouting  in 
a  half  smile. 

"Something  very  nice?  Tassels  must  have 
been  attentive." 

There  was  a  shy  glance  in  the  boy's  direction  — 
and  then : 

"  I  looked  up  philander.  Did  you  mean  a 
woolly  opossum  or  to  make  love?  " 

Dick's  laugh  rang  out  clear  and  full. 

"  You  looked  it  up !  " 

"  Yes,  and  —  tell  me,  please  —  when  people  say 
a  person  is  naive,  do  they  mean  it  as  a  compliment 
—  or  —  something  else  ?  " 

"  You'd  have  to  tell  me  just  how  it  was  said." 

Henrietta  drew  her  brows  together  in  a  frown. 
She  wanted  to  put  the  case  hypothetically. 

"  If  you  heard  two  people  talking  and  one  said 
something  rather  nice  and  then  added,  '  He's  so 
nai've' — " 


330  Only  Henrietta 

"He's  so  naive?" 

1  Yes  —  or   she  —  it   doesn't  matter.     We're 
just  supposing." 

A  flash  of  comprehension  crossed  Dick's  coun- 
tenance. 

"  I  should  take  it  as  a  compliment.  It  was 
meant  that  way  —  I  am  sure.  In  fact — " 

The  blue  eyes  were  startled  for  an  instant. 
Then  Henrietta  remarked  indifferently: 

"  Never  mind,  it's  just  a  new  word  and  I'm  col- 
lecting them.  Sometimes  the  dictionary  isn't  very 
clear.  That  is,  you  don't  quite  understand." 

She  jumped  up  from  the  rock  hastily. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said.  u  I'm  not  treating  my 
friends  very  nicely.  I  thought  they  were  too 
busy  to  need  me." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A   TRIP   TO    PIKE'S    PEAK 

HENRIETTA'S  diary  for  August  twentieth,  read: 

'  This  has  been  such  a  wonderful  week  I 
scarcely  know  where  to  begin  to  tell  about  it.  The 
girls  say  they  have  had  the  time  of  their  lives. 
That's  a  good  deal  for  Nancy  to  say.  She's  been 
to  New  York  twice  and  has  heard  Grand  Opera 
in  the  original. 

"  I  sha'n't  take  up  much  time  with  the  picnic, 
except  that  we  decided  to  start  early  in  the  morn- 
ing instead  of  at  noon,  and  I  was  glad  of  it,  for 
everything  was  so  sweet  and  fresh;  the  pines  and 
flowers  dewy  with  their  morning  bath.  The  air 
was  so  thin  and  the  sky  so  blue  that  you  felt  if 
you  looked  high  enough  you  could  see  heaven 
bending  down  and  angels  waving  to  you.  It's 
perfectly  wonderful  to  get  up  on  the  top  of  a 
mountain  and  look  down  on  the  hills  and  valleys 
and  then  remember  that  there's  a  heap  more  com- 
ing to  you  some  day  if  you  deserve  it.  I  must  say 
that  I  never  cared  much  for  the  Jonah  story  in  the 
Bible,  but  I  do  believe  that  the  mountains  sing  to- 
gether. They  did  that  morning. 

331 


332  Only  Henrietta 

"  Of  course  the  trip  to  the  Peak  was  the  most 
joyous  thing  that  has  come  into  my  life  recently. 
Ever  since  I  can  remember  I  have  wanted  to  get 
on  top  and  see  what  it  looked  like.  When  I  left 
the  dinkey  little  car  that  pulled  us  up,  and  stepped 
out  on  the  rocks  that  were  really  the  old  Peak's 
crown,  something  went  through  me  like  a  pain, 
and  the  tears  came  in  my  eyes.  I'm  sure  I  don't 
know  why.  There  wasn't  a  thing  to  cry  for  — 
except  gratitude. 

"  Nobody  can  have  the  least  idea  of  what  it 
means  to  be  on  top  of  the  world  wearing  a  feath- 
ery little  cloudlet  for  a  halo.  One  sailed  down 
on  my  shoulders.  Dick  said  it  was  real  becom- 
ing; it  made  me  look  ethereal.  He  pretended 
to  hold  on  to  me  for  fear  I'd  be  translated  like 
Elijah. 

"  We  played  snowball  and  climbed  round  on  the 
rocks  for  a  while.  It  was  cold  and  we  had  to 
exercise  to  keep  warm.  Min  and  Nancy  went  in 
the  station  with  Doctor  and  Mother  (Mrs. 
Hughes  couldn't  stand  the  trip,  so  she  didn't  go) 
and  Dick  and  I  had  the  top  to  ourselves. 

"  We  stood  still  for  awhile  gazing  at  the  coun- 
try that  stretched  away  for  miles  and  miles  below. 
Good  Springs  looked  like  a  little  baby  nestling  in 
the  arms  of  its  mother  with  old  Cheyenne  half 
encircling  it.  I  started  to  call  Dick's  attention  to 
it,  but  something  in  his  face  made  me  stop.  His 


A  Trip  to  Pike's  Peak  333 

expression  was  almost  holy.     He  had  his  hat  off. 

"  For  a  minute  I  wished  I  were  a  man.  There's 
something  so  splendid  about  taking  your  hat  off  to 
things.  It  means  that  you're  in  the  presence  of 
something  so  much  bigger  than  yourself.  I  took 
mine  off  anyway  and  held  it  up  high.  Dick  saw 
me.  He  came  over  and  gave  me  a  little  pat  that 
meant  a  heap  more  than  words.  It  was  his  nice 
way  of  saying  that  we  both  understood  and  appre- 
ciated. 

"  '  Can  you  imagine  what  the  sunrise  would  be 
up  here?  '  I  said,  remembering  what  Mr.  Haswell 
had  told  me.  '  All  that  stretch  of  country  looks 
like  a  big  sea,  and  then  the  sun  strikes  through  it 
for  his  morning  stroll.  He  sends  all  his  rays 
ahead  to  light  the  path  —  pinks  and  crimsons,  gold 
and  purple  !  My,  but  it  must  be  grand !  I'd  give 
anything  to  see  it.' 

"  Dick  said  he  would  too,  that  he  bet  it  beat 
Mandalay  where  the  dawn  comes  up  like  thunder. 
Then  he  said  those  nice  lines  of  Kipling's  that 
ring  in  your  ears  like  music.  I  perfectly  adore 
them. 

"  I  was  getting  very  cold  and  thinking  about 
going  in  when  Dick  said:  '  Henrietta,  let's  go 
over  there  a  little  way  from  the  station  and  build 
a  memorial  to  this  visit.  We'll  pile  up  some  rocks 
and  stick  this  little  flag  in  the  top.'  He  had  one 
in  his  pocket.  '  Five  years  from  now  we'll  come 


334  Only  Henrietta 

back  and  see" if  it  has  weathered  the  storms.     If 
it  has,  it  will  be  a  good  omen.' 

'You  mean  we'll  come  together?'  I  asked 
him. 

'  Of   course.     Whom    did   you   suppose    I'd 
come  with?  ' 

'  Your  wife,  probably  —  you'll  be  married  by 
that  time,'  I  said. 

"  '  Maybe,'  he  said,  and  looked  at  me  so  long 
and  funny. 

"  '  Maybe  I'll  be,  too,'  I  said.  I  wasn't  going 
to  let  him  think  I  had  no  intentions.  I've  always 
expected  to  marry  young.  He  took  an  awful 
quick  breath  and  tried  to  discourage  me.  Then 
he  laughed  and  said  he  'sposed  Van  Dyne  would 
be  out  of  knickers  in  five  years.  Fancy! 

"  We  built  the  mound  together  and  stuck  Old 
Glory  in  the  top.  We  were  just  going  to  have  a 
little  ceremony  and  pledge  our  everlasting  friend- 
ship when  Min  and  Nancy  came  out  of  the  station 
house  all  toasted  up  and  spoilt  it.  There  isn't 
much  more  to  tell  except  that  we  stopped  at  a  big 
hotel  in  Manitou  for  lunch.  It  was  a  wonderful 
place,  and  a  great  many  people  were  sitting  round 
on  the  verandas  doing  fancy  work  or  holding  their 
hands.  It  must  be  wonderful  to  be  rich  and  live 
like  that,  only  I'm  afraid  if  I  didn't  do  something 
with  my  hands  that  I'd  have  to  account  for  it 
somewhere.  Maybe  up  in  the  blue  house  that  the 


A  Trip  to  Pike's  Peak  335 

angels  wave  from  on  clear  days.  Isn't  my  imag- 
ination something  awful?  No  wonder  Dick  says 
I  should  can  it. 

"  We  got  home  in  the  early  evening,  had  a  light 
dinner  and  then  Dick  played  for  us  until  bedtime. 
I  never  heard  him  play  so  well,  but  they  were  all 
such  sad  things.  He  told  me  afterward  that 
some  of  them  were  Liszt's  love  songs.  There  was 
another  thing,  too,  that  had  sobs  in  it  —  a  Russian 
prelude.  Dick  said  it  was  the  saddest  thing  that 
was  ever  written,  and  he  told  me  a  lot  about  the 
composer.  He  said  he  wrote  moody,  depressing 
things,  full  of  feeling.  I  was  glad  when  he 
stopped  playing.  I  wanted  to  get  out  of  the  room, 
go  off  up  to  Silvery  Waters  or  somewhere  and  cry 
because  the  world  was  so  beautiful  and  there  were 
people  like  Dick  and  the  doctor  in  it.  I  guess 
I've  got  that  thing  Dick  said  I  had  hanging  to  my 
disposition  all  right. 

"  There's  a  lot  more  I  could  write  about,  but 
Nancy  and  Min  are  going  home  to-morrow  and  I 
must  entertain  them  to  the  last.  We've  had  such 
a  good  time  together  I  almost  hate  to  see  them  go. 
We've  been  on  every  mountain  round  here  and 
spent  hours  in  the  woods.  In  the  afternoons  we 
have  sewed  and  had  naps  or  danced  for  an  hour 
before  dinner  with  the  boys.  Sometimes  I've  had 
hard  work  believing  I'm  /  —  entertaining  my 
friends  so  beautifully.  But  it'll  soon  be  over  now. 


336  Only  Henrietta 

I  dread  to  think  of  it.  Anyway,  no  matter  what 
comes,  the  show  case  is  gone  forever,  and  so  are 
the  hair  switches.  Peace  be  to  their  remains. 
Mrs.  Hughes  is  very  anxious  to  take  a  bigger 
house  when  we  go  back  to  town  and  rent  us  the 
upstairs.  It  would  be  heavenly,  for  more  than 
likely  they  will  locate  in  the  North  End  close  to 
the  hospital.  I'd  hate  awfully  to  leave  Min,  but, 
of  course,  we'd  still  be  in  the  same  town,  which  is 
some  comfort.  I'll  be  glad  to  get  back  to  my 
work  with  Mrs.  Lovell;  I've  read  all  the  books 
she  asked  me  to  and  there  were  a  lot  of  them. 
I've  learned  a  lot  of  Kipling  from  Dick,  besides. 
We  like  so  many  of  the  same  things.  Maybe  I 
won't  teach  Latin  after  all,  but  write  books. 
There  are  so  many  lovely  vocationals  to  choose 
from. 

"  P.  S. 

"  I  forgot  to  say  that  the  colored  waiters  at  the 
hotel  in  Manitou  made  a  great  impression  on  me. 
I  love  their  elegance.  I  enjoy  waving  my  hand 
and  seeing  them  jump.  I  believe  in  my  establish- 
ment I  will  employ  them.  They  give  you  an  aris- 
tocratic feeling.  Though  I  believe  on  the  whole  I 
prefer  Celeste  to  a  colored  maid.  Goodness,  but 
I'm  silly !  I'm  glad  nobody  sees  this  book  but  me. 
But  if  you've  never  had  anything  you  can  at  least 
pretend.  It's  such  fun. 


A  Trip  to  Pike's  Peak  337 

"  P.  S.  No.  2. 

"  I  forgot  to  say  that  the  other  day  Dick  told  me 
that  I  looked  exactly  like  a  painting  of  a  boy  in  his 
home.  Especially  in  my  riding  clothes.  He  said 
that  when  he  was  a  little  shaver  his  mother  used 
to  go  to  this  house  to  see  a  lady,  and  that  he'd 
stand  before  the  picture  all  the  time  they  were 
there,  it  was  so  handsome.  He  says  I  have  the 
same  expression.  Then  I  guess  he  was  afraid 
I'd  get  conceited,  so  he  told  me  that  the  boy  didn't 
turn  out  very  well  or  something.  I  wonder  if 
it's  the  same  boy  I  remind  Mrs.  Lovell  of.  Dick 
sketched  me  yesterday  in  the  white  dress  Mother 
made.  If  I  do  say  so,  it  was  a  pretty  picture. 
The  girls  were  quite  crazy  over  it.  He  calls  it 
*  Where  the  Brook  and  River  Meet.' 

"  P.  S. 

"  I've  discovered  something.  Doctor  Hughes 
likes  mother.  You  can  see  it  in  his  eyes  as  plain 
as  anything.  If  she  goes  out  of  the  room  he 
watches  her  as  long  as  he  can  see  her,  and  often 
follows  her  into  trie  kitchen  or  out  into  the 
yard.  She  looks  better,  too.  Her  color  is  so 
beautiful,  such  a  deep,  deep  red,  and  her  eyes 
are  so  bright.  I  think  she's  perfectly  lovely  — 
only  she  ought  to  be  a  little  rounder.  I  have  to 
admit  she's  very  thin.  I  shall  never  understand 
why  my  father  left  her,  and  the  worst  of  it  all  is 


338  Only  Henrietta 

I  believe  she  cares  for  him  yet.  I  don't  see  how 
she  can  when  he's  acted  with  such  outrage  toward 
her.  He  did  have  nice  eyes,  though,  in  the  pic- 
ture, and  he  looked  so  merry.  I  wish  he  hadn't. 
Whenever  I  want  to  hate  him  his  eyes  smile  at  me. 
Oh,  dear,  I  wish  I'd  never  seen  his  old  picture. 
I  wish  Mother  were  free  to  marry  Doctor  Hughes. 
There,  now  I've  said  it !  I've  wished  it  for  a  long 
time.  I  love  him,  and  I'd  just  dote  on  belonging 
to  him.  It  would  save  such  a  lot  on  doctor's  bills, 
too,  with  Mother  sick.  She  insists  on  paying  him 
—  always.  I  guess  I'd  be  somebody  if  I  were 
Henrietta  Hughes,  daughter  of  the  celebrated  sur- 
geon, the  most  successful  doctor  in  the  town  — 
president  of  the  hospital  staff.  I  think  I'm  going 
to  ask  him  if  I  may  call  him  Uncle :  Uncle  Doctor ! 
It  sounds  a  little  closer  and  more  affectionate.  I 
won't  tell  Mother  until  I  have  established  the 
habit.  It's  almost  impossible  to  break  a  habit 
once  you're  started.  It's  twelve  o'clock.  I  can 
tell  by  the  sun ;  I  must  get  home  now  and  help 
Mother  with  the  lunch.  Next  week  I  shall  have 
more  time  to  express  my  inmost  thoughts." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

DICK    MAKES    A    DISCOVERY 

HENRIETTA'S  eyes  were  wet;  indeed,  they  were 
red  and  swollen.  Bounder  sat  at  her  feet,  keen 
and  sympathetic.  Now  and  then  he  reached  up 
and  put  his  cold  nose  against  a  moist  cheek,  despite 
the  fact  that  it  wasn't  "  sanitary." 

'  Yes,  Bounder,  I  know  you're  sorry,  terribly 
sorry  to  leave  this  beautiful  place,  and  your  lot 
is  even  harder  than  mine,  for  you've  got  to  travel 
back  to  that  horrid  old  Vermont  in  a  baggage  car. 
I  wonder  if  they'll  feed  you  well,  and  cut  your 
meat  up  fine  like  I  do?  I  doubt  it.  You've  got 
to  really  love  a  person  —  a  —  anything  —  to  give 
them  care.  I  bet  you'll  get  it  in  chunks  and  it 
seems  as  if  I  couldn't  stand  it.  It'll  be  so  bad 
for  your  digestion." 

She  stooped  suddenly  and,  grasping  Bound- 
er's ears  caressingly,  looked  into  the  dog's  honest 
eyes. 

"  It's  not  all  about  you  that  I'm  crying,  Boun- 
der. I  might  as  well  tell  the  truth.  It's  about 
him  —  some.  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  you  both 
going  off  and  leaving  me  to-morrow.  The  world 

339 


340  Only  Henrietta 

won't  be  the  same.  I  don't  care  how  bright 
the  sun  shines,  everything  will  look  gray  and  lone- 
some. He's  packing  his  things  now.  I  saw  him 
as  I  came  by  the  cabin.  He  was  throwing  them 
in  the  trunk  something  awful.  I  wanted  to  stop 
and  help  him  but  I  knew  this  spell  was  coming  on. 
I've  read  that  men  hate  women's  tears,  even  when 
it's  about  them.  I  wouldn't  cry  in  his  presence 
again  for  worlds.  I  did  once,  and  I  never  will 
again.  I've  been  so  ashamed  ever  since.  Now, 
you  go  off  over  there  by  the  brook,  Bounder,  and 
watch  the  squirrels  while  I  write  a  line  or  two  in 
my  diary.  I  want  to  copy  something  that's  in  my 
mind  while  I  can  remember  it.  I  found  it  in  a 
book  last  night  and  it  seemed  to  have  been  meant 
for  me." 

Henrietta  wrote  slowly.     Every  other  line  was 
punctuated  by  a  tear  drop. 

"  Silvery  Waters,  August  3Oth  — 
"  There  is  a  turned  down  leaf  in  every  life.  In 
every  human  heart  a  hidden  story  of  happier  days 
of  peace  amid  the  strife  —  a  blotted  leaf  that  the 
world  knows  not;  a  love  dream  rudely  crushed,  the 
sight  of  a  face  that  is  not  forgot  although  the  voice 
be  hushed." 

A  half  hour's  pause  followed  this  entry  and  then 
the  idle  pencil  took  up  its  work  again.     But  the 


Dick  Makes  a  Discovery          341 

effort  caused  a  deluge  of  emotion  and  Henrietta 
put  her  head  down  on  her  knees  and  sobbed 
openly.  In  fact,  she  was  so  overcome  that  she 
failed  to  hear  a  quick  step  at  her  side.  It  was 
Bounder's  joyful  bark  that  made  her  glance  up 
into  Dick's  wondering  face. 

"  For  the  love  of  Mike  what's  happened,  Hen- 
rietta?" Dick  was  alarmed. 

Henrietta  struggled  with  her  sobs  bravely. 

"Nothing  —  nothing  —  go  away!  What  did 
you  come  up  here  for,  snooping  round  just  to  see 
what  I  was  doing.  Go  away  —  right  this  minute. 
I  don't  want  you  here.  I  —  I  want  to  be  alone 
with  my  —  myself.  I'm  going  to  cry  all  day  if  I 
want  to  —  I  —  I  — " 

Sobs  choked  the  utterance.  Instead  of  going, 
Dick  dropped  down  on  the  ground  and  took  one  of 
Henrietta's  brown,  sunburned  hands  in  his. 

"  Henrietta,  what  in  the  deuce  is  the  matter ! 
Come  on  now,  be  a  sport  and  tell  me.  You  give 
me  the  willies  taking  on  like  this.  Anybody 
dead?" 

"  No." 

"  Or  dying?  " 

"  No  —  not  exactly." 

"  Somebody  sick?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  what  is  the  matter  then?  " 
'  What  difference  does  it  make  to  you?  " 


342  Only  Henrietta 

"  It  makes  a  whole  lot.  You  know  I'm  sorry, 
don't  you,  whatever  it  is?  Don't  tell  me  if  you 
can't,  but  for  heaven's  sake  stop  sobbing  —  you'll 
do  something  to  your  anatomy  —  don't!  " 

Dick  was  genuinely  distressed.  He  took  the 
hand  that  had  been  pulled  away  from  his  and  held 
it  firmly. 

"  Think  you  can't  tell  me?  "  he  said  when  the 
sobs  had  diminished. 

"  It  isn't  anything  —  only  —  everything's  going 
to  be  broken  up  after  to-morrow.  Bounder's  go- 
ing away  —  and  so  are  you  —  and  the  day  after, 
we  are,  and  we've  all  had  such  a  good  time  and  I 
hate  Good  Springs  so  and — " 

"  Does  my  going  away  make  you  unhappy,  Hen- 
rietta?" There  was  a  tender  note  in  the  boy's 
voice. 

"  Why  —  of  course  —  you're  a  part  of  it  all  — 
and  we've  had  lots  of  good  times." 

"  We  surely  have.  Bully  good  times.  You've 
been  the  dandiest  little  pal  a  fellow  ever  had.  I 
shall  always  look  back  on  this  summer  as  one  of 
the  pleasantest  of  my  life.  And  I  shall  always  re- 
member you,  Henrietta.  I'm  going  to  write  to 
you  —  often." 

Henrietta  sat  up  and  wiped  her  eyes. 

"You  will,  really?" 

"Really!" 

"  And  you  want  me  to  answer?  " 


Dick  Makes  a  Discovery          343 

"  Do  I  want  you  to !  What  do  you  take  me 
for?" 

"  I  write  an  awful  letter,  and  my  spelling  isn't 
good  a  bit.  You  see,  I've  never  written  many  — 
there  wasn't  anybody  to  write  to.  But  I'll  try  to 
be  careful." 

"  Not  too  careful,  Henrietta." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  want  them  to  be  like  you  —  sweet 
and  spontaneous." 

If  Henrietta's  face  had  not  been  so  red  Dick 
might  have  discovered  a  blush. 

"  I  don't  know  about  their  being  sweet  exactly. 
They'll  probably  be  long." 

"  And  I'm  coming  back  some  day.  Will  you 
be  my  pal  then  —  or  will  Van  Dyne  have  the  right 
of  way?  " 

"  Oh,  pooh,  Van  Dyne !  You're  always  talk- 
ing about  him." 

"  Well  —  he's  pretty  much  in  evidence,  you 
know." 

"  Of  course.     We  go  to  school  together." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,  Henrietta;  come 
with  me." 

He  pulled  her  up  from  the  ground  hastily. 
The  diary  fell  open  at  his  feet.  Henrietta  picked 
it  up,  confused. 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  take  me?  "  she  asked. 

"  To  the  big  pine." 


344  Only  Henrietta 

They  were  scrambling  up  the  mountain-side  be- 
fore she  had  time  to  answer.  Dick's  hand  was 
more  persuasive  than  argument.  He  pulled  her 
up  the  steep  incline  easily. 

"  My,  but  you've  grown  strong  here  this  sum- 
mer," she  said,  between  quick  puffs  of  breath. 
"  You're  hardly  the  same  boy.  I  thought  you 
were  sick  when  I  first  saw  you  and  now  —  look!  " 

They  were  on  a  safe  ledge  of  rock  resting  and 
the  boy  took  off  his  hat  and  held  it  high  in  the  air. 
"  Yes;  it's  these  old  mountains  that  have  done  it. 
Let's  give  three  cheers  for  Colorado." 

Henrietta  glanced  up  into  Dick's  face.  It  was 
tanned  to  a  rich  brown  by  sun  and  wind.  The 
exertion  of  climbing  had  brought  good  honest 
perspiration.  Little  locks  of  short  blond  hair 
struggled  to  curl  about  his  forehead  and  above 
his  collar.  He  looked  as  fit  and  hardy  as  a 
young  Greek  with  his  added  fifteen  pounds  in 
weight. 

"  I  suppose  you'll  do  great  things  on  the  foot- 
ball team  at  college  this  winter,  won't  you?  " 

"  Believe  me!  "  the  boy  answered,  and  doubling 
a  fist  struck  it  into  the  palm  of  the  other  hand 
forcefully. 

"  Be  careful!  "  Henrietta  cried.  "  Oh,  if  you 
should  fall!  This  place  isn't  any  too  safe." 

Dick  looked  over  the  precipice. 
"  It  wouldn't  be  very  nice,  would  it?     Especially 


Dick  Makes  a  Discovery          345 

if  one  of  these  fat  bowlders  took  a  notion  to  fol- 
low. Shall  we  go  on?  Ready?" 

Up  they  climbed,  Dick  ahead.  Henrietta 
scorned  his  assistance.  Now  and  then  she  took 
advantage  of  a  shrub  or  scrub  oak  branch  for 
help,  but  her  step  was  swift  and  sure. 

It  took  some  climbing  to  gain  the  cleared 
space  where  the  lone  pine  tree  stood.  Henrietta 
reached  it  first,  breathless.  She  gave  a  little  gasp 
and  put  her  hand  over  her  heart  to  stop  its  flut- 
tering. "  Oh,"  she  said,  "  look!  Look  up  above 
you  and  then  down  below.  I  don't  know  which  is 
the  loveliest" 

Dick  looked  up  and  caught  the  blue  of  the  sky 
between  soft  billowy  clouds.  His  glance  fell  to 
rest  on  Henrietta's  face. 

"  Now,  what  are  you  going  to  do?  "  she  asked, 
drinking  in  great  breaths  of  the  crisp  invigorating 
air.  "  Did  you  ever  .see  the  mountain  so  beauti- 
ful? Pretty  soon  all  those  patches  of  green  will 
turn  to  scarlet.  There's  frost  in  the  air  if  it  is 
August." 

She  dropped  down  at  the  foot  of  the  old  tree 
and  hugging  her  knees  close  scanned  the  valley 
below. 

"  I  suppose  September  is  .beautiful  up  here," 
Dick  observed,  slipping  down  beside  her. 

"  Every  month  is.  I'd  like  to  come  up  in  De- 
cember on  snowshoes,  wouldn't  you?" 


346  Only  Henrietta 

"  It  would  be  great." 

'  Just  fancy  all  those  canons  below  us  filled  with 
snow  and  what  fun  it  would  be  to  go  sailing  over 
them." 

"  I'll  take  the  goods  the  gods  provide  and  enjoy 
to-day,"  Dick  said,  buttoning  up  his  sweater. 

"  Are  you  really  going  to  miss  me,  Henrietta?  " 

"  Miss  you?     Why,  of  course." 

"  And  I'll  miss  you  —  like  the  dickens." 

"  I  don't  see  why.  You've  got  sisters.  I 
haven't  anybody." 

'  You're  going  to  have  somebody." 

"Who?" 

Dick  gave  a  low  whistle  and  Bounder  came  on 
the  run. 

'  You're  going  to  have  His  Jags.  I  am  offi- 
cially presenting  him  to  you  now.  Careful,  old 
man;  don't  eat  her  up.  Your  job  is  to  protect  her 
—  take  care  of  her." 

Henrietta  drew  back  and  looked  at  Dick  in 
amazement. 

'  You  mean  that  you  are  going  to  give  him  to 
me  —  to  keep." 

"  Surest  thing  you  know !  " 

"Honestly?" 

"  I  hope  honestly." 

"But what  for?" 

"  Because  he's  yours.  Has  been  ever  since  the 
day  he  arrived." 


Dick  Makes  a  Discovery          347 

"  Oh,  no,  he  isn't !  He  loves  you  the  best. 
Look  at  him.  I  believe  he  understands  what 
you're  saying." 

"  Of  course  he  does.  Bounder's  three-fourths 
human.  Aren't  you,  old  fellow?" 

Bounder  came  between  them  and  sniffed  the 
face  of  one  and  then  the  other  affectionately. 

"  But  I  can't  take  him  away  from  you.  I  just 
can't.  I  wouldn't  for  anything.  He'd  miss  you 
so." 

"  Keep  him  for  me  then  —  until  I  come  back." 

"  How  long  will  that  be?  " 

;<  Three  or  four  years  maybe.  ,  I'm  sure  to  turn 
up  in  time." 

'  What  will  bring  you?     You're  well  now." 

Dick  didn't  speak  for  a  moment.  Bounder  put 
a  paw  on  his  knee  caressingly. 

"  Lots  of  things,"  he  said,  finally.  "  You 
aren't  old  enough  to*  understand  if  I  told  you, 
Henrietta." 

"Why  wouldn't  I?" 
'  You'd  have  to  be  quite  sixteen." 

He  turned  away  from  her  questioning  gaze  and 
taking  a  knife  from  his  pocket  began  to  cut  some- 
thing in  the  bark  of  the  old  tree. 

"  Don't,"  Henrietta  said.     "  It  must  hurt." 

Dick  carved  on.  Henrietta  watched  a  heart 
grow  on  the  surface  of  the  pine. 

11  What's  that  for?  "  she  asked. 


348  Only  Henrietta 

"  Our  initials,"  the  boy  said,  and  the  color  came 
to  his  face. 

4  Why  are  you  putting  them  there?  " 

"  As  an  earnest." 

"What's  an  earnest,  Dick?" 

11  A  pledge." 

"  A  pledge  of  what?" 

"  Our  friendship." 

She  watched  her  own  initials  grow  within  the 
heart.  The  H.  stood  out  clearly  and  then  the 
K;  R.  followed,  and  O.  B. 

"  What  is  the  O.  for?  "  Henrietta  inquired. 

"  Otis.     My  middle  name." 

"  Oh !  "  The  words  came  with  a  sigh. 
"  There's  so  much  that  I  don't  know  about  you, 
Dick." 

"  You're  going  to  know  me  better,  some  day." 

"Ami?     When?" 

u  When  you  grow  up." 

"  You'll  forget  all  about  me  when  you  get  back 
East.  I  know  you  will.  You  don't  think  so  now, 
but  you  will." 

"  You  have  another  think  coming,  Henrietta. 
The  trouble  will  be  not  to  think  about  you." 

"  Why,  don't  you  want  to?  " 

The  initials  were  done  and  the  boy  turned  with 
a  quick  smile. 

"  I've  got  to  study  like  the  mischief  this  year," 
he  said. 


Dick  Makes  a  Discovery          349 

"  I  see.  And  thinking  of  me  would  bother 
you." 

"  It  wouldn't  hurry  my  degree  any." 

"  I  suppose  it  wouldn't.  I  mustn't  think  about 
you,  either.  I'm  trying  to  get  through  school, 
too." 

Dick  laughed. 

"  Say,  Henrietta,  you'd  play  a  great  game  of 
chess,"  he  said. 

"Why?" 

"  You  think  out  your  moves  ahead." 

;'  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  There  isn't  any  reason  why  you  shouldn't 
think  of  me  a  lot.  It  doesn't  matter  so  much 
about  your  education.  You  won't  have  to  get  out 
in  the  world  and  hustle  for  a  living  as  I  will." 

"  Won't  I  ?  "  The  words  came  slowly.  "  I'll 
probably  get  out  sooner  than  you  will.  Let's  sit 
down  here  a  minute..  I  want  to  tell  you  some- 
thing." 

She  avoided  his  eyes  when  she  began  to  speak 
and  he  looked  down  the  valley,  too. 

"  You  remember  that  night  I  spoke  to  you  about 
my  —  my  father?  Well,  I've  always  been  so 
ashamed.  It  was  such  awfully  bad  taste.  I  knew 
it  at  the  time,  but,  somehow,  when  you've  suffered 
a  lot  over  a  thing  — " 

"What  was  your  father's  name,  Henrietta? 
Do  you  mind  telling  me?  " 


350  Only  Henrietta 

"  I  don't  know  —  except  Henry.  Mother 
never  speaks  of  him." 

Dick  gave  Henrietta  a  searching  glance. 

"  Did  you  come  here  from  the  East?  " 

"  Yes." 

"What  part?" 

"  New  England." 

"Vermont?" 

"  I  think  so  —  yes." 

Dick  gave  a  low,  soft  whistle. 

"  Look  at  that  eagle,"  he  said,  pointing  out  a 
small  black  speck  in  the  sky.  "  He's  probably 
burgled  everything  in  sight  and  is  going  home  with 
his  plunder." 

Henrietta  wasn't  interested  in  eagle  burg- 
lars. 

"  I  was  talking  to  you  about  that  time,  Dick, 
you  know.  I  want  to  apologize." 

"Forget  it!" 

"  It's  easy  to  say  that,  but  I  can't." 

"  Sure  you  can." 

Henrietta's  eyes  went  out  to  the  valley  again. 

"  I've  always  thought,"  she  said,  "  'specially 
since  I've  been  studying  with  Mrs.  Lovell,  that 
maybe  if  Mother  had  had  a  better  education  she 
might  have  —  held  him  better.  You  see,  the 
aunt,  the  lady  he  lived  with,  didn't  like  Mother 
because  she  wasn't  just  his  class  —  whatever  that 
means." 


Dick  Makes  a  Discovery          351 

Dick  turned  and  looked  long  at  Henrietta. 

"  He  lived  with  his  aunt,  you  say?  " 

Henrietta  nodded. 

"  And  I  made  up  my  mind  to  be  educated  — 
thoroughly.  Even  if  I  have  to  work  my  way 
through  college." 

"  Bully  for  you,  Henrietta." 

"  Mrs.  Lovell  says  that  education  is  the  only 
real  aristocracy.  It  puts  people  on  a  level.  I'm 
not  going  to  have  the  man  I  marry  ashamed  of 
me;  and  I'm  not  going  to  put  him  in  a  place  where 
I'll  be  ashamed  of  him." 

"  Henrietta,  are  you  sure  that  you  are  not  six- 
teen—  or  is  your  philosophy  just  the  babes  and 
sucklings  kind?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  philosophy  is,  Dick.  1 
only  know,  because  I've  had  kind  of  a  hard  time 
—  owing  to  the  hair  business  and  things  —  that 
if  you  want  to  move  up  in  the  world  you've  got  to 
do  it  by  some  kind  of  a  plan.  You've  got  to  think 
about  it  and  look  ahead." 

"  Didn't  I  say  you'd  play  bully  chess?  " 

"  When  I  finish  high  school  I'm  going  to  col- 
lege. I'm  going  to  take  the  hardest  course  there, 
the  stiffest.  I  don't  mind  work.  I  like  it.  I'n? 
going  to  choose  a  vocational  — " 

"  A  vocation,  Henrietta." 

'  Yes;  and  I'm  going  to  be  somebody.  If  yo\ 
come  back  here  in  ten  years  you'll  hear  of  me  aj 


352  Only  Henrietta 

'  Henrietta  only  ' —  not  '  only  Henrietta/  You 
just  remember  that." 

"  I  bank  on  you !  Let  us  hope  that  I  won't  wait 
ten  years  to  come  back,  though." 

"No;  please  don't.  I  could  hardly  wait  ten 
years  to  see  you." 

Dick  leaned  closer. 

u  Do  you  really  mean  that?  " 

"  Of  course." 

He  took  her  hand  and  held  it. 

"  I  hate  to  leave  you,  too,  Henrietta.  I'm  go- 
ing to  miss  you  more  than  you  think." 

"  Oh,  for  a  while,  maybe,"  Henrietta  said 
archly  and  with  a  sigh.  "  You'll  have  a  lot  of 
girls  back  there."  She  nodded  to  the  East. 

"  What  makes  you  think  so?  " 

'  You're  the  kind  they  like.  Mary  Helen 
Bradford  told  Nance  that  you  were  quite  darling 
—  but  young." 

Dick  threw  up  his  hands  in  disgust. 

"  I  didn't  think  it  suited  you  to  say  that.  I  told 
Nance  so.  I  said  if  I  were  describing  you  I'd  say 
you  were  a  good  sport." 

'  Thank  you,  Henrietta.  Your  discrimination 
does  you  credit." 

The  boy  leaned  closer  and  looked  into  the  blue 
eyes. 

"Are  you  going  to  kiss  me  good-by?  A  nice 
big  brother  kiss?  "  he  asked  with  warm  eyes. 


Dick  Makes  a  Discovery          353 

Henrietta  returned  the  gaze  frankly. 

"  I'd  like  to,  Dick,  but  I  can't." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  I  promised  Mother  once,  2.  loag 
time  ago  when  I  was  a  very  little  girl,  that  I'd 
never  kiss  any  man  until  I  was  ready  to  be  his 
wife." 

Dick  rose  and  shook  his  long,  clean-cut 
limbs. 

"  Will  you  make  that  promise  to  me,  too,  Hen- 
rietta?" 

"What  for?" 

"  Because  " —  a  faint  smile  wreathed  his  lips  — — 
"  I  shall  redeem  the  promise." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  You  will  when  you  grow  up." 

Henrietta  rose  and  brushed  the  dirt  from  her 
skirt.  Then  she  slipped  a  hand  into  Dick's  with 
the  confidence  of  a  child. 

"  But  you  mustn't  think  I  don't  like  you.  I  do. 
Better  than  anybody  except  Mother  and  the  doc- 
tor. I'll  tell  you  something  —  now.  I  was  cry- 
ing because  you  were  going  away.  I  couldn't 
bear  to  think  of  it,  Dick  —  it  will  be  so  lone- 
some — " 

"Will  it,  Henrietta?" 

"  Awfully!  But  if  you're  really  going  to  give 
me  Bounder  it  will  help  some.  Did  you  mean 
that?" 


354  Only  Henrietta 

"  Of  course  I  meant  it." 

"  He'll  belong  to  both  of  us.  I'll  just  keep 
him  for  you." 

"  He's  yours  —  hide  and  hair,  Henrietta." 

Henrietta  laughed.  "  Don't  you  think  we'd 
better  be  going?  "  she  asked.  "  It  must  be  nearly 
four  o'clock  the  way  the  sun's  sliding  down.  It's 
cold,  too." 

She  shivered  and  Dick  ripped  off  his  sweater 
and  held  it  open  for  her. 

"  Put  this  on,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  no;  I  have  my  own.  You'll  be  cold 
and  — " 

"  Please.  I  want  to  see  you  in  it.  It's  your 
color.  The  first  time  I  saw  you  I  thought  of  a 
red  rose  just  coming  into  bloom." 

"Did  you?     That's  funny." 

"Why  is  it  funny?  " 

"  Because  the  night  I  met  you  I  had  a  dream. 
It  had  a  red  rose  in  it,  too." 

"  Tell  me  about  it." 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't.  It  was  so  silly.  All  mixed 
up  with  a  lot  of  stuff.  Are  you  all  packed?  " 

"  Just  about." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  stop  in  the  Springs 
and  see  Mrs.  Lovell.  She's  home." 

'  Yes;  for  a  day  or  two." 

1  You'll  probably  see  Miss  Mary  Helen,  won't 
you?" 


Dick  Makes  a  Discovery          355 

"  I'll  have  to  make  a  bread  and  butter  call. 
She's  been  very  kind  to  me." 

"  I  know  she  has.     She's  pretty,  isn't  she?  " 

"  Rather." 

"  I  like  good-looking  people.  Van  Dyne's 
handsome.  Don't  you  think  so?  I'm  glad  he's 
going  to  be  back  at  school.  He's  — " 

Dick  threw  back  his  head  and  his  short  merry 
laugh  echoed  from  the  eagle's  nest  against  the  sky. 

"  You're  all  right,  Henrietta,"  he  said.  "  I  get 
you !  " 

They  started  down  the  trail  reluctantly.  Dick 
glanced  back  at  the  sturdy  old  sentinel  guarding 
the  cliff. 

"  You  won't  forget  our  earnest?  "  he  said. 

"  As  if  I  could !" 

Sleep  came  to  Henrietta  slowly  that  night.  She 
dozed  off  at  last  only  to  jump  from  bed  and  add 
this  hasty  line  to  her  diary: 

"  Redeem  means  to  make  good  by  performing. 
I  looked  it  up." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THREE   YEARS    LATER 

MRS.  LOVELL  leaned  back  in  Isabel  Summers1 
comfortable  sleepy  hollow  chair  and  looked  af- 
fectionately across  the  library  table  at  her  old 
friend. 

"  My,  but  it's  good  to  be  with  you  again  after 
all  these  years,"  she  said  gratefully. 

Mrs.  Summers  adjusted  the  soft  crimson  shade 
on  the  handsome  bronze  lamp  between  them,  and 
her  eyes  brightened.  She  was  about  to  speak 
when  Mrs.  Lovell  interrupted  her  with  a  whim- 
sical: 

"  Thank  you,  Isabel.  You  are  kind  to  favor 
my  wrinkles  and  near  blond  hair.  I  have  reached 
the  shaded  lamp  period  of  existence."  A  low 
laugh  followed  the  announcement,  in  which  Mrs. 
Summers  joined. 

"  Goodness,  Margaret,  you  don't  feel  old  yet, 
I  hope.  And  your  hair  isn't  anything  to  mine  — 
it's  white  sure  enough." 

"  And  tremendously  becoming," 

"  Thank  you.  I  didn't  pray  for  it,  but  it  came, 
and  I  accepted  the  inevitable.  I  have  the  best  of 
you,  Marge.  I'm  pressing  forty  —  close." 

356 


Three  Years  Later  357 

"  So  you  are.  How  the  time  flies !  It  was 
only  the  other  day  that  you  were  Isabel  Donald- 
son, buttonholing  Ned  Summers  in  the  old  high 
school  down  on  Elm  Street,  and  taking  all  the 
honors  in  sight.  Are  we  really  sedate,  middle- 
aged  women,  Belle?  " 

"  I  hope  not,"  came  from  across  the  table  ve- 
hemently. "  Ned  told  me  only  last  night  that  I 
was  a  heap  better  looking  now  than  in  those  old 
days.  I  knew  it  was  a  tarradiddle,  but  I  tried  to 
believe  him." 

"  He  was  right.     You're  very  stunning." 

Mrs.  Lovell  feasted  for  a  moment  on  the 
strong,  clear-cut  features  of  the  woman  across  the 
table. 

"  Your  speaking  of  my  waylaying  Ned  makes 
me  think  of  your  old  friend,  Marge  —  Henry 
Crosby.  Do  you  know  - —  you  never  would  admit 
it  —  but  I  used  to  think  that  you  were  very  fond 
of  him." 

"  I  was,"  came  the  quick  response.  "  I  don't 
mind  telling  -you,  now.  I  was  pretty  much 
broken  up  when  he  married  his  little  seamstress. 
There  had  always  been  an  understanding  between 
us  —  nothing  definite  —  that  some  day  when  we 
grew  up  and  Henry  had  the  Crosby  fortune  we 
would — " 

"  Marry,"  supplied  Mrs.  Summers,  when  her 
friend  paused. 


358  Only  Henrietta 

'  Yes.  It  was  just  a  boy  and  girl  affair  —  yet 
it  went  deep.  I  took  a  long  chance  when  I  ac- 
cepted Hiram  Lovell.  But  fate  was  kind.  I 
wouldn't  give  Hi's  little  finger  for  Henry  Cros- 
by's soul  and  body." 

"  Girls  are  so  rash,"  Mrs.  Summers  replied, 
stifling  a  yawn  behind  jeweled  fingers.  "  Of 
course  you  know  that  Henry  died." 

"  Died!  " 

Mrs.  Lovell  sat  up  and  peered  across  the  table 
in  surprise. 

"Oh,  yes;  down  in  South  America,  several 
months  ago  —  yellow  fever.  Or  do  they  have 
yellow  fever  down  there?  Anyway,  it  was  some- 
thing that  carried  him  off  very  suddenly.  The 
news  came  through  the  bank  here.  Sarah  Kim- 
ball  had  to  go  up  on  the  hill  and  break  through 
the  bars  to  tell  Aunt  Hester." 

"  Poor  old  soul !" 

"Poor  old  nothing!  She's  as  hard  as  flint. 
Sarah  said  she  never  turned  a  hair  when  she  told 
her.  Thanked  her  for  coming  and  held  the  door 
open  for  her  to  depart." 

"  She's  still  crusty,"  Margaret  Lovell  mused 
aloud. 

u  She  certainly  is.  I  always  think  what  old 
Bridget  O'Connor  used  to  say.  Bridget  lived 
with  her  for  twenty  years :  '  Miss  Hester  won't 
never  die.  God  don't  want  her,  and  the  devil 


Three  Years  Later  359 

wouldn't  have  her.'  '  Mrs.  Summers'  low,  well- 
bred  laugh  filled  the  room. 

"  And  I  repeat,  poor  old  soul,  Isabel.  Poor 
wretched  old  soul !  We  can't  get  away  from  our 
own  consciences,  if  we  do  put  up  the  bars  to  the 
world.  We  can't  get  away  from  ourselves  and 
tormenting  thoughts.  I  wager  that  if  we  could 
see  her  heart  we'd  find  it  sore." 

Isabel  Summers'  bright  eyes  met  her  friend's 
in  a  quick  smile.  "  Still  carrying  a  white  flag 
around,  Marge,  and  binding  up  the  bruises  that 
come  your  way?  Remember  how  you  used  to 
take  in  every  stray  dog  and  cat  in  Rollington?  I 
always  expected  to  see  you  die  of  hydrophobia  or 
smallpox." 

Margaret  Lovell  leaned  across  the  table,  luxu- 
rious with  late  books  and  popular  magazines. 

"  I  didn't  have  an  easy  time  when  I  was  a  girl, 
Belle,  and  you  know  it.  Poverty's  a  poor  bed 
fellow.  But  it  did  one  thing  for  me.  It  devel- 
oped sympathy.  Sometimes  I've  thought  all  I 
went  through  was  worth  —  just  that.  I  know 
sorrow  when  I  see  it.  I  know  distress  and  heart- 
ache." 

She  got  up  and  walked  the  length  of  the 
room,  pausing  before  the  door  that  led  into  the 
hall. 

"  May  I  close  it?  "  she  asked.  "  I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you.  A  story.  One  that  you  will 


360  Only  Henrietta 

scarcely  credit  at  first;  but  it  is  true,  every  word 
of  it," 

Isabel  Summers  watched  her  as  she  came  back 
to  her  chair.  She  could  return  the  compliment 
that  had  been  given  her.  Age  had  improved 
Margaret  Lovell.  She  had  always  been  hand- 
some, but  there  was  something  better  than  mere 
beauty  in  the  face  turned  toward  her.  Sympathy 
had  come  hand  in  hand  with  kindness.  To- 
gether they  dwelt  in  the  soft  brown  eyes  and  curv- 
ing lips. 

Mrs.  Lovell  sank  down  in  the  chair  again.  She 
had  started  to  speak  when  a  servant  entered  the 
room  and  silently  lighted  candles  on  the  low 
book  shelves  and  stirred  the  fire  in  the  ample 
hearth. 

She  waited  for  Mrs.  Summers'  "  Close  the  door 
after  you,  please,  Triptoe.  That  will  be  all  to- 
night." Then  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair  for  a 
moment  and  watched  the  firelight  play  on  the  deep- 
toned  velvet  curtains  that  Triptoe  had  drawn 
across  the  door. 

"  Make  yourself  comfortable,  Belle !  "  she  said 
presently.  "  I'm  going  to  be  some  time.  I've 
come  halfway  across  the  Continent  to  have  this 
talk." 

Mrs.  Summers  moved  nearer  the  fire  and  put 
her  slippered  feet  on  the  brass  fender.  "  All 
right,"  she  said,  "  I'm  listening." 


Three  Years  Later  361 

Mrs.  Lovell,  without  preamble,  plunged  into 
her  tale. 

"  A  long  time  ago,"  she  began,  "  let  me  see,  it 
must  be  four  or  five  years,  I  fancy,  I  was  making 
a  call  in  my  neighborhood  and  the  subject  turned 
to  the  Colorado  climate,  its  benefits  and  draw- 
backs. Among  the  latter  I  mentioned  my  hair. 
It  was  coming  out  terribly.  The  dry  mountain  air 
was  ruining  it.  Mrs.  Bradford  suggested  that  I 
try  a  person  whom  she  spoke  of  as  '  her  hair 
woman.'  'You'll  like  Mrs.  Kirby,'  she  said; 
'  she's  an  excellent  masseuse.'  I  begged  her  to 
send  her  over  as  soon  as  possible  and  the  next 
morning  she  came.  I  always  like  to  remember 
Mrs.  Kirby  as  she  looked  that  day,  she  was  so 
shy  and  sweet.  She  made  me  think  of  a  little 
gray  bird.  She  seemed  so  pure  and  gentle  — 
so  spirituelle.  She  hafl  a  low,  pleasant  voice, 
and  a  nice  manner.  I  was  attracted  to  her  at 
once. 

"  We  decided  upon  a  regular  hour  and  she 
began  her  treatment.  She  had  been  coming  to 
me  for  some  time  when  she  mentioned  having  a 
little  girl.  You  know  how  fond  I  am  of  children, 
and  I  questioned  her.  I  wish  you  might  have  seen 
her  face,  Belle.  It  was  as  if  some  one  had  thrown 
up  a  window  and  let  in  a  flood  of  sunshine.  She 
simply  idolized  the  child.  She  told  me  a  good 
deal  about  her :  how  bright  she  was,  how  studious, 


362  Only  Henrietta 

affectionate.     I  could  see  that  she  was  wrapped 
up  in  her. 

"  I  didn't  think  much  about  the  child  after  that 
for  some  reason.  Mrs.  Kirby  never  talked 
unless  questioned,  so  the  subject  was  dropped. 
But  one  day  Hedwig,  my  maid,  said  to  me : 
*  Mrs.  Lovell,  did  you  ever  see  Mrs.  Kirby's 
little  girl?  She  came  here  yesterday  with  some 
face  cream  for  you,  and,  my  word,  but  she's 
pretty ! ' 

1  Looks  like   her  mother,   I   suppose,'   I   re- 
marked. 

"'No;  not  at  all.  She  looks  like  —  quality.' 
Hedwig,  although  a  Swedish  maid,  had  lived 
among  the  elect  long  enough  to  know  the  ear- 
marks. 

"  A  little  while  after  that  I  saw  Henrietta.  I 
had  asked  her  mother  if  I  could  help  her  with  her 
lessons.  Hedwig  was  right.  She  was  pretty  — 
very.  But  there  was  something  more.  It  was 
class.  She  had  on  a  little  pink  chambray  dress  — 
she  was  about  thirteen  then,  I  fancy,  and  she  wore 
it  as  most  girls  would  satin.  It  was  old  and 
faded,  but  she  gave  it  an  air:  she  had  that  inde- 
scribable, indefinite  thing  we  call  style.  Ellen 
Peabody  h  >d  it,  you  remember.  She  could  wear 
a  shirtwaist  and  put  a  crimp  in  all  the  rest  of  us 
J  asked  Henrietta  to  stay  to  lunch.  Her  table 
manners  were  above  reproach,  and  I  noticed  that 


Three  Years  Later  363 

when  she  took  out  her  little  pocket  handkerchief 
it  was  immaculate.  She  had  the  instincts  and 
habits  of  a  lady. 

"  She  began  her  lessons.  I  was  very  much  in- 
terested in  her.  She  was  quick  and  alert.  Her 
language  was  so  picturesque  and  descriptive  that 
I  often  held  my  breath  in  amazement. 

'  The  Judge  quite  doted  on  her.  He  often 
urged  me  to  have  her  remain  to  lunch,  so  that  he 
could  hear  her  talk,  and  laugh  at  her  droll  re- 
marks. 

"  To  make  a  long  story  short,  she  made  a  place 
in  our  hearts  before  I  discovered  —  but  I  am  get- 
ting ahead  of  my  story. 

"  It  was  one  autumn  morning  that  Mrs.  Kirby 
first  spoke  to  me  about  her  husband.  I  can  see 
her  now,  her  little,  strong  fingers  in  my  hair  (I 
always  watched  her  in  the  mirror),  her  face  thin 
and  ethereal.  She  was  looking  wretchedly  ill. 
Indeed,  it  was  the  very  next  day,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  that  I  heard  she  was  in  the  hospital,  ill 
with  pneumonia. 

"  I  seemed  to  stumble  on  the  fact  that  she  was 
a  New  Englander.  Our  conversation  had  turned 
to  the  East  She  had  lived  here,  in  Rollington, 
and  knew  a  few  of  the  people  I  knew  —  in  a 
business  way.  I  don't  know  how  it  happened,  but 
I  began  telling  her  about  the  Crosbys.  Oh,  I  be- 
lieve she  mentioned  having  known  them  slightly. 


364  Only  Henrietta 

I  noticed  that  she  was  very  nervous  as  I  talked  — 
I  went  into  all  the  details  of  Henry's  runaway 
marriage  —  but  I  thought  it  was  because  she  was 
ill.  I  had  Hedwig  give  her  some  tea  before  she 
left  —  she  was  so  deathly  white,  and  Judkins 
drove  her  home." 

Mrs.  Lovell  paused  for  a  moment  connecting 
up  the  links  in  her  story. 

u  Henrietta  came  for  lessons  all  that  winter," 
she  went  on.  "  I  was  kept  busy  preparing  for 
her.  She  had  that  wolfish  thirst  for  knowledge 
that  Dante  talks  about.  I  loved  to  watch  her 
face.  Especially  when  she  was  thinking.  You 
could  almost  see  the  workings  of  her  mind  —  like 
this:" 

Mrs.  Lovell  put  two  white,  tapering  fingers  on 
the  table  and  made  them  walk  with  measured 
steps. 

"  She  reminded  me  of  some  one,  too.  Her 
face  would  haunt  me  for  hours  after  she  left,  and 
one  night  —  she  had  been  in  a  little  play;  oh,  she 
was  so  adorable  —  I  nearly  went  crazy  trying  to 
think  where  I  had  seen  that  smile  before,  those 
clear  blue  eyes. 

"  I  didn't  find  out  for  some  time.  Mrs.  Kirby 
was  failing.  She  looked  as  if  she  might  be  going 
into  a  decline,  and  I  offered  her  our  summer 
home  in  the  mountains.  I  let  Henrietta  have  my 
riding  horse,  and  bought  her  a  cunning  suit  to  ride 


Three  Years  Later  365 

in.  I  went  up  to  the  cottage  to  see  them  settled 
and  Henrietta  burst  in  upon  me.  .  .  . 

"  I  had  scarcely  glanced  at  her  when  the  like- 
ness that  had  so  often  bewildered  me,  cleared  in 
a  flash.  I  drew  her  to  me  and  made  her  turn 
round  and  smile  —  and  then  I  knew.  I  was  posi- 
tive. She  was  a  living  image  of  Henry  Crosby! 

"  Do  you  remember  that  fascinating  picture  of 
Henry  at  eighteen,  made  in  his  polo  togs,  that 
hung  in  the  dining-room  over  the  mantel?  Hen- 
rietta was  that  to  the  life  —  perfect. 

"  I  began  putting  two  and  two  together.  Mrs. 
Kirby  had  lived  in  Rollington;  she  was  a  seam- 
stress, she  had  told  me  so.  Her  name  was  Etta 
—  her  child  was  Henry  —  Etta.  It  was  as  plain 
as  day  —  I  marveled  that  I  could  have  been  so 
stupid." 

Mrs.  Summers  leaned  forward  in  her  chair. 

"  And  you  told  her  that  you  recognized  her  — 
the  mother,  I  mean?  " 

"  Just  a  minute,  Belle,  please.  I  haven't  fin- 
ished. It  was  about  that  time  that  Dick  Bently 
came  to  Colorado  for  a  summer  in  the  mountains. 
He  was  a  little  run  down,  I  sent  him  up  to  the 
cottage  and  asked  Mrs.  Kirby  to  take  him  in. 
We  were  spending  the  summer  in  California  that 
year,  so  I  couldn't  do  much  for  him  in  the  way  of 
entertainment. 

'  We  arrived  home  a  day  or  two  before  he  left 


366  Only  Henrietta 

for  the  East,  and  he  stopped  overnight  with  us. 
The  Judge  had  some  sort  of  an  engagement,  and 
Dick  and  I  were  sitting  before  the  fire  gossiping 
—  it's  chilly  in  September  in  Colorado  —  and  all 
of  a  sudden  he  said: 

'  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  Mrs.  Lovell,  that 
Henrietta  Kirby  might  be  the  daughter  of  the 
person  Father  always  alludes  to  as  "  Young 
Henry  Crosby"?' 

"  '  What  makes  you  think  that,  Dick?  '  I  asked. 

"  He  scratched  his  head  for  a  moment  —  that 
charming,  near  kinky  head  —  and  looked  into  the 
fire. 

4  I  don't  know.  It  came  over  me  one  after- 
noon in  a  heap.  I  used  to  set  great  store  on  that 
old  painting  of  young  Henry  when  Mother  took 
me  to  visit  at  the  Crosbys'.  I  suppose  it  was  the 
riding  clothes.  He  was  some  looker,  wasn't  he?  " 

"  '  He  was,  indeed;  and  you  think  Henrietta  is 
like  that  picture?  ' 

"  4  The  dead  image !  '  he  replied.  *  And  Hen- 
rietta gave  it  away  that  they  came  from  Vermont 
and  that  her  mother  made  a  mess  of  things  when 
she  married.' 

"  '  I  have  had  the  same  thought,  Dick,'  I  said. 
4  I  think  that  Henrietta  is  the  daughter  of  Henry 
Crosby  and  I'm  going  to  make  sure  some  day  be- 
fore long.  But  I  want  you  to  keep  your  discovery 
to  yourself.' 


Three  Years  Later  367 

4  You  may  trust  me,'  he  said,  and  I  believed 
him. 

"  I  went  to  Mrs.  Kirby  awhile  after  that  and 
asked  her,  straight  out.  She  was  very  much  up- 
set, but  she  acknowledged  the  truth.  She  told  me 
that  Henry  had  been  sending  her  money  from 
South  America ;  enough  so  that  she  and  Henrietta 
could  live  in  comparative  comfort.  It  is  a  great 
shock  to  me  to  know  that  he  is  dead.  I  had 
dreamed  —  hoped  that  he  would  come  back. 
Mrs.  Kirby  still  loves  him  —  still  believes  that  he 
will  make  good  and  return  to  her.  Poor  little 
frail  thing!  What  a  burden  she  has  carried,  and 
with  what  courage !  " 

u  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  for  the  child?  " 
Mrs.  Summers  asked.  "  How  old  is  she  now?  " 

"  Almost  seventeen."  . 

"  And  as  pretty  as  ever?  " 

"  Pretty  isn't  the  word,  Belle, —  she's  a  thor- 
oughbred! " 

Mrs.  Lovell  reached  under  a  pile  of  magazines 
and  held  one  up  for  inspection.  "  Have  you  no- 
ticed this  poster?  "  she  asked.  Her  eyes  dwelt 
for  a  moment  on  a  girl  in  a  red  sweater  with  an 
undershot  brindle  terrier  in  leash.  "  This  is  she 
—  my  Henrietta.  Dick  Bently  did  it  that  sum- 
mer in  the  mountains.  It  has  just  been  accepted 
by  The  Post." 

Mrs.  Summers  took  the  magazine  in  her  own 


368  Only  Henrietta 

hands.  u  Dick's  making  a  name,"  she  said 
briefly;  then  she  studied  the  features  of  the  charm- 
ing face  before  her.  '  Why,  of  course,"  she  said, 
"  there  could  be  no  question  about  it.  That's 
Henry's  mouth  to  the  life.  She's  upstanding,  too, 
like  her  father.  Remember  that  lift  to  the  shoul- 
ders, the  verve  —  Well,  upon  my  word  —  won- 
ders never  cease !  I  must  show  it  to  Ned.  He 
was  the  only  one  of  Henry's  friends  who  stood  by 
him  — " 

"  Not  yet,  please,  Belle.  I  must  ask  your 
promise  to  keep  my  secret.  There  is  a  reason. 
I  have  a  plan." 

Mrs.  Lovell  leaned  forward  in  her  chair  and 
spoke  quickly.  "  I  want  to  see  the  Crosby  blood 
run  back  into  its  own  channel  without  coercion.  I 
want  to  see  if  it  is  blue  —  true  blue.  Henrietta 
must  make  her  own  way.  7  could  educate  her, 
put  her  through  college  —  that  would  be  easy,  so 
very  easy,  but  it  would  not  do.  She  must  come 
into  her  own,  not  by  might,  but  by  right.  Right, 
Belle,  in  the  old  Christian  sense.  The  flame  from 
her  young  heart  must  kindle  the  dying  spark  in 
that  old  breast  up  on  the  hill.  Hester  Crosby's 
redemption  must  come  through  love  —  for  love 
is  right." 

Isabel  Summers  leaned  back  in  her  chair  skep- 
tically. 

"  You've  a  big  job  on  your  hands,  Marge.     I 


Three  Years  Later  369 

tell  you  that  old  woman's  soul  is  atrophied.  It's 
dead.  You  couldn't  appeal  to  her  in  a  thousand 
years." 

"  I  don't  intend  to.  Listen.  I'm  going  up  to 
the  University  to-morrow  to  see  President  Fenton. 
I'm  going  to  tell  him  the  story  I've  told  you.  I'm 
going  to  ask  him  for  a  scholarship  for  Henrietta. 
He's  got  to  give  it  to  me  for  old  times'  sake. 
Henrietta's  coming  East  —  to  Rollington." 

She  paused  a  minute  and  then  went  on: 

"  Several  years  ago  when  I  was  here  visiting, 
Mrs.  Bently  told  me  that  Hester  Crosby  was 
getting  old  and  feeble.  That  she  was  lonely. 
She  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  a  young  girl  from 
the  University  each  winter  for  her  board.  She 
needs  company.  I  tell  you  she's  afraid  of  her- 
self. There  are  dark  corners  in  her  old  brain 
that  terrify  her.  She  wants  companionship." 

"  And  you're  going  to  put  this  young  girl 
there?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  only  one  fear.  Hester  may  see 
the  likeness." 

IsabCi  Summers'  eyes  narrowed  in  scorn. 

"  Has  Hester  Crosby  a  grain  of  imagination?  " 
she  asked  with  asperity.  "  Ever  hear  of  her  put- 
ting herself  in  another  fellow's  place  —  seeing 
through  his  eyes?  No.  Life  to  her  is  a  multipli- 
cation table.  You  learn  it  by  rule,  and  deviate 
from  it  at  your  own  peril.  You  need  not  be 


370  Only  Henrietta 

alarmed.  You're  not  going  to  tell  the  girl  that 
the  cantankerous  old  person  is  her  great  aunt?  " 

"  No;  Henrietta  will  go  into  her  father's  home 
a  little  above  a  servant.  But  you  watch  her. 
She'll  come  out  a  Crosby  of  the  first  water.  And 
then  — " 

Isabel  Summers  interrupted  with  a  laugh. 

"  Rollington  won't  get  the  Crosby  cash  then, 
after  all.  Jim  Wicks  will  tear  his  hair.  He  can 
hardly  wait  to  fix  up  the  library  and  the  — " 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  the  money,"  Margaret 
Lovell  said  in  all  honesty.  "  That's  such  a  small 
matter.  It  would  be  to  Henrietta.  What  she 
wants  is  family.  An  ancestral  background. 
She'd  rather  dispense  hospitality  from  that  old 
house  on  the  hill  than  discover  a  gold  mine.  Be- 
sides, Henrietta  doesn't  need  a  fortune.  She  has 
brains  enough  to  make  one." 

The  door  opened  and  Ned  Summers  stood  on 
the  threshold. 

11  Well !  "  he  said  with  his  jovial,  pood-natured 
smile,  and  turned  to  Mrs.  Lovell.  "  I  supposed 
that  you  and  Belle  were  up  in  the  boodwar  taking 
down  your  hair  and  eating  chocolates !  Do  you 
know  that  it's  getting  late  ?  " 

His  wife  rose  and  wound  her  arms  around  the 
rough  tweed  shoulders. 

'  Marge  has  been  telling  me  the  most  wonder- 
ful story,  Ned,"  she  said.  "  You'd  love  it.  But 


Three  Years  Later  371 

it  isn't  finished  yet.     We'll  have  to  wait  and  share 
the  end  with  you." 

She  made  him  comfortable  in  a  deep  leather 
chair,  put  his  ash  tray  on  the  arm,  and  turned  on 
the  lights. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

GRADUATION   AND    HONORS 

IT  was  June  again.  June  in  Colorado,  with  the 
birds  singing  in  the  cottonwoods,  and  the  air  fresh 
and  fragrant  as  old  wine. 

A  young  girl  came  up  the  avenue  blithely, 
stopped  for  a  second  to  examine  a  young  leaf  on 
a  sturdy  tree  that  graced  the  yard  where  she 
turned  in,  marveled  for  an  instant  at  its  perfec- 
tion, and  then  ran  lightly  up  the  steps  that  led  to 
a  comfortable  two-story  duplex  apartment. 

She  had  reached  the  second  landing  when  she 
whistled  —  a  low  musical  whistle  that  fell  pleas- 
antly on  the  ears  of  a  woman  lying  on  a  couch  just 
within  the  entry  door. 

"  Mother !  "  the  young  girl  cried  jubilantly, 
as  she  turned  the  knob.  "Mother,  I  won! 
Here  it  is!  Look  at  the  darling  thing,  quick! 
Oh,  I'm  so  excited  I  can  hardly  talk.  Isn't  it  ex- 
quisite !  See !  " 

Mrs.  Kirby  took  the  little  velvet  jewel  case  in 
her  hand  and  drew  the  flushed  face  of  her  daugh- 
ter to  her  lips. 

11 1  felt  that  you  would,  Henrietta.     So  did  the 

372 


Graduation  and  Honors  373 

doctor.  It  is  lovely,  isn't  it?  Were  you  fright- 
ened? " 

"  Only  for  a  minute.  The  great  sea  of  faces 
was  formidable.  But  I  was  so  interested  in  my 
subject  —  and  so  anxious  to  do  my  best  that  I 
forgot  to  be  frightened.  Mrs.  Lovell  is  home  — 
she  was  there,  right  up  in  front.  The  dear !  She 
was  so  happy  to  think  I  won.  It  was  awfully 
selfish  of  me  not  to  let  you  come,  dearest.  But 
I  just  couldn't.  I  shouldn't  have  been  able  to  do 
a  thing.  Isn't  it  funny  how  conscious  one  feels 
before  one's  family?  " 

"  It  was  all  right,  Henrietta,  and  very  natural 
How  lovely  the  medal  is.  Put  it  on.  Let  me  see 
how  it  looks." 

Henrietta  pinned  the  shining  token  of  her  abil- 
ity on  the  front  of  her  white  blouse  and  stooped 
for  another  kiss. 

"  Have  you  been  all  right  to-day?  Was  the 
cough  bothersome?  " 

"No;  I've  been  very  comfortable." 

"  I'm  so  glad.  I  thought  about  you  every 
minute  and  once  when  I  came  to  that  part  where 
I  said: 

" '  It's  sweet  to  dream  in  Venice  and  it's  great  to  study 

Rome ; 

But  when   it  comes  to   living,   there's  no  place  like 
home ! ' 


374  Only  Henrietta 

the  thought  flashed  over  me  that  I  hadn't  ordered 
anything  for  your  lunch.  I  was  so  terribly  hurried 
this  morning  —  and  I  pretty  nearly  lost  myself, 
but  I  didn't.  I  was  awfully  sorry  for  Nancy. 
She  spoke  beautifully.  I  think  it  was  my  subject 
that  took.  Mr.  Stephens  was  so  kind.  He  came 
up  to  me  afterward  and  said  he  liked  my  material 
—  that  it  was  very  patriotic.  Oh,  belovedest, 
think  of  owning  a  Stephens  medal!  " 

"  It's  a  great  honor,  Henrietta.  Doctor  will 
be  so  pleased.  Run  down  and  show  it  to  Mrs. 
Hughes,  quickly." 

Henrietta  was  back  in  a  few  minutes.  If  her 
face  had  been  flushed  with  excitement,  it  was 
crimson  now  with  joy. 

"Mother!  did  you  know  about  this?"  she 
asked.  "  Have  you  been  keeping  the  secret? 
Mrs.  Hughes  said  that  they  have  had  it  for  me 
for  over  a  month.  Look,  my  graduation  present 
from  Uncle  Doctor." 

Mrs.  Kirby  lifted  a  little  gold  wrist  watch  from 
a  small  leathern  case  and  held  it  up  gently.  The 
tears  came  in  her  eyes. 

"  No,  dear,  I  didn't  know  anything  about  it. 
How  beautiful !  They  are  too  kind  —  it  pains 
me." 

Henrietta  kissed  away  the  tears  that  fell  on 
the  wan  cheeks  and  smoothed  the  black  hair. 
"  But  they  love  to  be  kind  to  us,"  she  said,  "  and 


Graduation  and  Honors  375 

I'm  sure  we're  a  comfort  to  them.  You  do  a  great 
deal  for  Mrs.  Hughes.  She  loves  having  you 
read  to  her,  and  I  don't  know  what  she'd  do  if 
you  weren't  here  to  manage  James  and  Rebecca. 
She's  afraid  of  servants.  She  can't  understand 
why,  when  Rebecca  is  so  clean  and  self-respecting 
she  can't  dine  with  them.  I  must  say  I  can't 
myself  if  it  would  give  her  any  pleasure." 

'  The  doctor  must  keep  up  his  establishment, 
Henrietta,  in  the  prescribed  way.  His  position 
demands  it." 

"  I  suppose  so,  but  —  bother  position!  " 

"  How  did  Van  Dyne  do  with  his  oration?  " 

Henrietta  laughed. 

"  He  looked  better  than  he  talked !  Van  Dyne 
was  never  cut  out  for  a  public  speaker.  He's  the 
business  type.  He  made  several  hundred  dollars 
in  stocks  last  week.  Of  course  his  father  staked 
him,  but  he  did  the  manipulating.  Van's  a  dear." 

"  Do  you  like  him,  Henrietta?  " 

There  was  an  anxious  note  in  the  tired  voice. 

"  Lots !  We're  great  pals.  Only  he's  so  ter- 
ribly —  demanding.  He  wanted  me  to  stop  writ- 
ing to  Dick.  As  if  I  would !  By  the  way,  I  have 
a  letter.  It  was  in  the  box  this  morning.  Want 
to  hear  it  —  that  is,  some  of  it?  " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

Henrietta  took  a  thick,  closely  written  sheet 
of  note  paper  from  an  envelope. 


376  Only  Henrietta 

"  He  begins  it,  '  Henrietta  Only,'  "  she  said,  the 
color  mounting  to  her  cheeks  again.  "  Absurd 
boy !  I  once  told  him  in  a  mad  moment  that  my 
ambition  lay  in  being  called  that,  and  he's  never 
let  up.  Well,  he  says: 

"  '  No  doubt  by  the  time  this  reaches  you  "  the 
brook  will  have  really  reached  the  river."  I  hope 
the  contact  won't  spoil  the  brook.  It  was  too 
sweetly  babbling  and  translucent  to  find  oblivion 
in  deeper  waters  —  even  for  greener  fields.  My 
hat  is  off  to  the  young  graduate.  You  have  taken 
the  first  step  into  this  fascinating  old  world;  may 
each  successive  one  carry  you  nearer  your  goal.' 

"  Then  he  just  goes  on,"  Henrietta  said,  skip- 
ping several  paragraphs  and  looking  rather  self- 
conscious,  "  and  says,  '  Your  ears  must  be  burn- 
ing pretty  much  of  the  time  just  now,  aren't  they? 
The  posters  are  taking  tremendously.  No,  I 
have  not  idealized  the  face  in  the  least,  it — ' 
This  is  rather  personal  through  here  and  I'll  just 
read  you  the  end  —  not  the  very  end,  but  what 
he  says  about  you,  dearest,"  Henrietta  broke  off. 
"  Oh,  here  it  is :  '  Am  so  glad  to  know  that  your 
mother  is  holding  her  own.  My  best  love  to  her. 
I  shall  never  forget  that  I  was  a  stranger  and  she 
took  me  in  —  that  she  trusted  me  with  you. 
There's  a  very  green  spot  in  my  heart  for  her.' 

"Isn't  it  a  lovely  letter?"  Henrietta  inquired 
brightly,  as  she  folded  it  up. 


THIS    IS    RATHER    PERSONAL    THROUGH    HERE    AND    I'LL 
JUST  READ  YOU  THE  END  '  " 


Graduation  and  Honors  377 

"  I  should  judge  so,"  Mrs.  Kirby  admitted, 
smiling. 

"  Oh,  Mother,  you  could  read  every  word  of  it 
—  only  Dick  has  too  good  an  opinion  of  me. 
One  just  can't  repeat  compliments  about  one's  self. 
At  least  I  can't;  they  aren't  true,  anyway.  I'm 
going  to  give  you  some  hot  broth  now." 

She  was  back  in  a  few  moments  with  a  delec- 
table tray.  She  kept  up  a  stream  of  conversation 
as  her  mother  sipped  her  usual  afternoon  re- 
freshment. 

"  Mrs.  Hughes  has  been  up  to-day,  of  course?  " 
she  asked. 

'  Yes;  several  times.     So  has  Rebecca." 

"  And  you  had  your  lunch?  " 
1  Yes,   dear,  don't  worry.     I  made  some  hot 
chocolate  and  toast." 

"  I'm  so  glad.  I  think  you're  getting  stronger 
again.  That  last  cold  was  such  an  affront.  I 
don't  see  why  I  cc  Jdn't  have  caught  it.  Mother, 
you  ought  to  see  the  things  Nancy  got  —  presents. 
Scads  of  them." 

"  That  was  nice." 

"  So  did  Lucy.  Did  you  know  it  was  settled? 
She's  going  to  Stanford  in  the  Fall." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment. 

"And  Nancy  to  Vassar.  Think  of  it!  She's 
promised  to  write  to  me  every  week  and  tell  me 
ali  the  wonderful  things  she's  doing  and  seeing." 


378  Only  Henrietta 

"  Nancy  is  a  dear  girl." 

"  Yes,  isn't  she?  Wouldn't  it  be  splendid,  get- 
ting ready  for  college?  Nancy  is  beginning  al- 
ready." 

"  I  wish  you  could  have  some  of  those  advan- 
tages, Henrietta." 

"  Why,  Mother,  I  wasn't  complaining.  I'm 
perfectly  happy,  and  I  wouldn't  leave  you  for  the 
best  college  in  the  world.  Not  while  you're  ill." 

A  fleeting  smile  played  on  the  features  of  the 
face  turned  to  Henrietta. 

"  You've  been  the  sweetest  daughter  that  a 
mother  ever  had,"  Mrs.  Kirby  said.  "  I  want 
you  always  to  remember  that  —  and  the  most 
considerate." 

"  Except  the  time  I  *  drownded  the  picture  in 
Mrs.  McHenry's  well ' —  You  mustn't  forget  that. 
I  should  have  been  spanked  within  an  inch  of  my 
life,  dearest." 

They  laughed  together. 

"  I  wonder  if  the  angel  is  floating  round  down 
there  yet.  I  don't  much  care  if  she  is.  Oh, 
Mother,  we've  so  much  to  be  thankful  for. 
These  pretty  rooms  —  that's  enough  in  itself." 

She  gazed  about  for  an  instant,  her  eyes  linger- 
ing on  the  simple,  well  chosen  furniture,  the  few 
good  prints  that  adorned  the  walls;  the  pretty 
china  on  the  tray. 

"  I  haven't  given  you  my  gift  yet,  Henrietta," 


Graduation  and  Honors  379 

Mrs.  Kirby  said,  looking  into  the  glowing  eyes 
affectionately.  "  Will  you  look  in  my  lower 
bureau  drawer  and  bring  me  the  old  box  in  the 
left  hand  corner.  I  had  always  expected  to  give 
you  the  things  that  are  in  it  on  your  eighteenth 
birthday  —  but  perhaps  — " 

The  pause  made  Henrietta  shudder,  and  a  lump 
rose  in  her  throat. 

"  Perhaps  —  yes  — "  she  said  with  an  effort  at 
cheerfulness. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  to  give  them  to  you 
now.  We  will  make  this  a  gala  day." 

Henrietta  brought  the  worn  and  tattered  box, 
depositing  it  in  her  mother's  lap.  "  I've  won- 
dered what  was  in  it,  ever  since  I  can  remember  — 
but  you  always  kept  it  locked,"  she  said. 

"  Yes  —  the  key,  please.  You  will  find  it  on 
the  ring  in  my  purse." 

Henrietta  brought  the  key  and  sank  down  on 
the  floor  close  to  her  mother's  knees.  She 
dreaded  the  ordeal  ahead,  for  the  thin  hands 
trembled  when  they  fitted  the  key  to  the  lock. 

'  This  box,  Henrietta,  is  very  dear  to  me," 
Mrs.  Kirby  said.  "  It  is  all  I  have  of  my  mother. 
I  am  sure  it  belonged  to  her.  It  was  left  with  me 
at  the  Home  —  years  ago  • —  when  I  was  but  an 
infant." 

She  lifted  the  lid.  A  faded  purple  velvet  tray 
met  Henrietta's  eyes,  and  on  it  reposed  three 


380  Only  Henrietta 

pieces  of  jewelry:  two  quaint  cameo  earrings,  and 
an  exquisite  cameo  brooch  surrounded  by  pearls. 

A  little  quivering  "  Oh!  "  left  Henrietta's  lips. 
"  Mother!  "  she  whispered,  "  How  lovely!  " 

She  took  the  brooch  in  her  hands  and  examined 
it  critically. 

'  Why,  it  is  quite  as  beautiful  as  Mrs.  Lov- 
ell's !  "  she  exclaimed,  turning  it  over  and  over, 
and  examining  it  minutely.  "  Hers  is  an  heir- 
loom. It  belonged  to  her  grandmother.  She  got 
it  in  Italy  many  years  ago.  It  has  these  same 
pearls  around  it  —  Why,  look  —  did  you  know 
the  back  slides  out  —  like  this  —  see." 

Mrs.  Kirby  leaned  over  and  took  the  brooch 
from  Henrietta's  hand  eagerly. 

"  No,"  she  said,  and  there  was  a  tremor  in  her 
voice.  "  I  never  thought  of  taking  it  off.  What 
is  it,  dear?  Have  you  found  something?  Let 
me  see,  quick!  " 

"  Don't  get  so  excited,  belovedest;  it  isn't  good 
for  you.  Now,  see  —  it  has  made  you  cough. 
Oh,  dearest,  wait.  I'll  get  you  some  water.  .  .  ." 

But  Etta  Kirby  had  seized  the  brooch  and  was 
holding  it  to  the  light,  trying  to  read  the  faint 
inscription.  A  paroxysm  of  coughing  stopped  the 
endeavor. 

"  Here  —  read  it  to  me  —  quickly,  dear. 
There  may  be  a  clue." 

Henrietta  stooped  and  picked  up  a  ring  of  black 


Graduation  and  Honors  381 

hair  that  had  fallen  from  the  back  of  the  pin. 
She  gave  her  mother  the  water  and  carried  the 
brooch  to  the  window. 

"  The  inscription  is  very  faint,"  she  said,  "  but 
as  nearly  as  I  can  make  out  it  says,  from  T.  S.  to 
M.  C.  and  then  '  Mizpah.'  Mizpah.  That  is 
from  the  Bible,  isn't  it,  Mother?  Yes,  I  am  sure 
it  is.  It  means,  '  God  watch  between  us  when 
we  are  separated,  one  from  the  other.'  ' 

Mrs.  Kirby  lay  back  in  her  chair,  white  and 
panting.  Henrietta  smoothed  the  soft  hair  and 
left  a  kiss  on  the  forehead. 

"  Let  us  put  the  things  away,  dearest.  This  is 
too  exciting  for  you.  The  doctor  wouldn't  like 
it  at  all.  Come,  let  me  put  them  back." 

"  I  want  you  to  have  them,  Henrietta.  I  have 
kept  them  all  these  years."  /  shall  never  know 
who  the  man  was  who  had  those  words  traced 
there  —  but  perhaps  some  day  you  may  —  who 
knows !  I  want  you  to  wear  the  brooch  —  when 
you  are  older." 

"  Yes,  Mother,  I  shall  love  it." 

Henrietta  took  the  box  away  in  silence.  She 
could  not  speak. 

When  she  came  back  her  mother  was  calm 
again.  There  was  a  happy,  almost  satisfied  look 
in  her  face,  and  the  tender  lips  were  wreathed  in  a 
half  smile. 

"  Henrietta,"   she  said  softly,   "  come  here  a 


382  Only  Henrietta 

I 

minute.  I  want  to  talk  with  you.  I  want  to  tell 
you,  dear.  ...  It  must  have  been  my  father  who 
put  that  inscription  in  the  brooch.  I  never  knew 
him  —  never  saw  him  —  but  I  love  and  respect 
him  for  her  sake  —  my  mother's.  Cannot  you 
find  a  place  in  your  heart  for  your  father  —  for 
my  sake?  " 

Henrietta  dropped  down  near  the  pathetic, 
wasted  form  in  the  chair  and  looked  in  the  clear, 
shining  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  brokenly,  "  yes,  dearest.  I 
think  I  have  forgiven  him.  I  have  tried  so  hard. 
When  he  comes  back  I  shall  be  a  daughter  to  him 

—  love  him  because  of  you.     Don't  worry,  please 

—  you  may  trust  me  —  I  promise." 

The  joy  in  the  eyes  above  her  own  made  Hen- 
rietta turn  away  quickly.  Tears  blinded  her 
sight. 

But  she  looked  up  again  presently  and  forced  a 
smile. 

"  And  I  shall  always  be  grateful  to  him  for  his 
money  ...  it  has  made  you  so  comfy,  dearest. 
Strange  that  it  hasn't  come  of  late,  isn't  it?  " 

"  It  will  never  come  again,  Henrietta." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that,  Mother?  " 

"  I  feel  it,  here"  She  laid  a  hand  over  her 
heart. 

"  You  think  that  something  has  happened  to 
him?" 


Graduation  and  Honors  383 

"Yes;  he  has  gone  on.  He's  waiting.  Some- 
times he  seems  so  near  that  I  could  almost  reach 
out  and  touch  him." 

"  And  you  want  to  be  with  him  ?  " 

"  When  you  have  finished  school  —  are  on  your 
feet  —  yes.  My  work  will  be  finished  then.  I 
can  trust  you,  Henrietta." 

"  If  I  could  ever  be  one-half  as  fine  as  you," 
the  girl  said  with  a  sob. 

"  You  must  be  better,  dear.  Every  child 
should  take  a  step  forward.  So  the  race  grows. 
You  have  your  ideals,  your  standards.  Live  up 
to  them:" 

Henrietta  took  the  tray  out  into  the  kitchen. 
She  put  it  on  the  sink  board  and  then  went  over 
to  the  window  and  gazed  down  on  Mrs.  Hughes' 
lilac  bush  that  had  battled  the  late  frosts. 

"  You  had  to  trust,"  she  whispered,  and  the 
tears  fell  thick  and  fast.  "  You  had  to  look 
ahead  to  warm  sunny  days  and  blue  skies.  So 
must  I.  And  I  mustn't  care  so,  because  she  wants 
to  be  with  him.  He  came  first  —  He  was  her 
sweetheart  —  I  understand  now  —  and  I  do  for- 
give him." 

She  turned  suddenly  and  went  to  the  pretty 
little  bedroom  that  opened  off  from  the  hall.  She 
managed  to  call  out  cheerfully: 

"  I'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes.  I  have  some- 
thing to  do  just  now;  can  you  spare  me?  " 


384  Only  Henrietta 

"  Yes,"  came  the  low  answer.  "  Rest  awhile, 
Henrietta.  This  has  been  a  long,  hard  day." 

Henrietta  sat  down  by  an  attractive  desk  in  a 
corner  of  the  room  and  drew  forth  a  book  dream- 
ily. 

"  I've  neglected  you  dreadfully,"  she  said  to 
the  diary;  "  I  little  thought  in  the  old  days  that 
I'd  ever  get  down  to  a  line  a  day;  but  when  one 
is  graduating  and  there  are  exams  and  —  letters 
—  long  letters  that  have  to  go  to  Boston  every 
week." 

A  wistful  smile  came  to  the  sweet  lips  and  the 
blue  eyes  grew  tender.  Then  suddenly  the  pen 
that  lay  on  the  little  wire  rack  under  the  tiny 
drawers  got  very  busy.  It  glided  along  for  some 
time,  and  stopped.  This  was  recorded: 

"June  3rd,  19 — 

"  What  a  beautiful  old  world  this  would  be 
if  it  were  not  for  pain  and  sorrow.  Mother  is 
not  nearly  so  well.  It  almost  broke  my  heart  to- 
day because  she  couldn't  go  to  hear  me  give  my 
oration.  We  both  pretended  that  it  was  because 
I  couldn't  do  my  best  before  her  —  but  we  each 
knew  that  the  other  was  bluffing.  It's  gotten  to 
be  a  game  with  us,  this  covering  up,  pretending 
that  we  don't  realize.  We  try  so  hard  to  spare 
each  other.  To-day  — 

"  I   thought   I   could   write   about   it  —  but   I 


Graduation  and  Honors  385 

can't.  To-day,  just  a  little  while  ago,  we  faced 
the  truth.  It  hurt  so  —  no  one  will  ever  know  — 
My  little  mother.  My  precious  little  mother. 
How  much  I  owe  her." 

There  was  a  blurred  space  after  this,  and  then: 

"  The  girls  are  full  of  their  plans  for  the  fall. 
Nancy  and  Lucy  and  the  Lees.  They  are  all  go- 
ing away.  They  seem  so  happy  and  care-free. 
I  can't  always  understand  why  they  have  so  much. 
That  almost  sounded  like  a  complaint.  I  wish  I 
hadn't  written  it  in  ink.  /  have  so  much,  too. 

"  Min  will  still  be  here:  dear  ,old  Min,  who 
always  understands.  That's  another  thing  I  must 
be  thankful  for.  And  yet  —  if  mother  were  only 
well,  how  I'd  love  to  go  Eastio  college.  I  believe 
if  I  had  my  choice  I'd  go  to  Mrs.  Lovell's  Alma 
Mater  at  Rollington,  Vermont.  It  is  a  fine 
school,  she  says,  and  it  isn't  far  from  Boston. 
Dick  does  get  home  for  week-ends  occasionally. 
There,  I've  confessed,  but  it's  safe  with  you,  my 
old  friend.  Your  scribbled  pages  are  for  my  eyes 
alone." 

A  number  of  trivial  incidents  followed:  Pro- 
fessor Howard  had  been  exceedingly  kind;  Van 
Dyne  was  such  a  sport,  only  he  couldn't  make  a 
speech,  he  just  couldn't!  Minnie  had  finished  her 
examinations  with  flying  colors. 


386  Only  Henrietta 

Then: 

"  I  was  almost  sorry  that  Nancy  didn't  get  the 
Stephens  medal.  They  gave  it  to  me.  I  think 
perhaps  it  was  because  I've  had  voice  training. 
Nancy  did  so  well.  I  was  proud  of  her.  It  is  a 
darling  medal.  I  shall  always  love  it,  and  Mother 
was  so  pleased.  This  has  been  a  wonderful  day; 
so  many  pretty  gifts  and  flowers.  It  made  me  sad 
to  leave  the  high  school.  I  can  scarcely  believe 
that  I  have  climbed  the  old  stairs  for  the  last  time; 
that  I  shall  never  hand  in  another  paper  to  Miss 
Ellwell.  I  am  grown  up  at  last.  Seventeen  in 
the  fall.  Seventeen!  Dick  is  right:  the  brook 
has  met  the  river.  I'm  not  sure  but  that  I'm  feel- 
ing the  shock. 

"  Mother  had  a  gift  for  me  when  I  got  home 
to-day.  It  was  beautiful,  but  —  I  can't  write 
about  it.  There  was  such  a  heart  break  in  it. 

"  I  must  stop  now." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

HENRIETTA    SAYS   GOOD-BY 

IT  was  September  —  golden  and  beautiful. 
The  leaves  from  the  cottonwood  trees  lay  in  russet 
glory  on  the  wide  avenues.  The  Peak  was  begin- 
ning to  draw  his  white  mantle  closer  about  his 
shoulders. 

Down  at  the  Rio  Grande  station  a  party  of 
young  people  tramped  back  and  forth  along  the 
board  walk,  their  arms  laden  with  flowers  and 
boxes.  The  face  of  one  young  girl  was  stained 
and  swollen. 

"  Oh,  for  the  love  of  Mike,  Min,  cheer  up. 
Henrietta  isn't  going  away  forever.  She's  going 
to  spend  all  of  her  vacations  here  with  Mrs. 
Lovell ;  she  told  me  so  yesterday.  And  Vermont 
isn't  off  the  map." 

"  It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk,  Hotie  Lee," 
Min  said,  gulping  down  a  sob;  "you,  going  off  to 
Stanford  next  Monday  yourself  —  and  Nancy  go- 
ing East.  Henrietta  and  I  had  always  planned 
to  go  through  college  together,  and  then  this  came 
up.  If  her  mother  had  only  lived  — " 

Minnie  turned  away  from  the  girls  and  buried 
her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 

387 


388  Only  Henrietta 

"  Minnie,  stop,  please !  Here  she  comes  now. 
Think  how  plucky  she's  been.  Never  a  word. 
Mother  says  she's  never  seen  such  bravery. 
Brace  up !  " 

Minnie  lifted  her  head,  forced  a  weak  smile 
to  her  lips  and  went  forward  with  the  girls  to  meet 
Henrietta. 

A  handsome  limousine  had  drawn  up  to  the  plat- 
form from  which  Mrs.  Lovell  alighted.  Henri- 
etta came  next,  followed  by  Hedwig  laden  with 
packages  and  wraps.  As  Henrietta  came  toward 
the  girls  a  young  man  swung  into  view,  raced 
along  the  platform  and  took  his  hat  off  with  a 
sweep. 

"  Jove !  I  had  a  turn,"  he  said,  halting  before 
Henrietta.  "  Thought  I  was  going  to  miss  you. 
Had  a  puncture  at  the  last  minute.  Well,  all 
ready?  How  does  it  feel  to  be  stealing  this  march 
on  all  the  rest  of  us.  You're  pulling  out  early." 

"  Yes;  rather.  Mrs.  Lovell  is  anxious  to  have 
me  located  before  college  starts.  For  me,  Van 
Dyne?  Lovely!  How  nice  of  you." 

She  took  the  candy  and  flowers,  smiling  her 
thanks. 

"  If  I  eat  all  this  candy  I  shall  have  to  tele- 
graph for  Uncle  Doctor  at  Chicago,"  she  said, 
looking  up  into  the  face  of  the  tall,  sad-eyed  man 
who  had  joined  the  party. 

The   little    group    moved   toward   the    station 


Henrietta  Says  Good-by          389 

house,  Nancy  and  Minnie  possessing  Henrietta's 
arms,  Mrs.  Lovell  and  the  doctor  following. 
Van  Dyne  fell  back  with  Hotie  Lee. 

"  My,  but  Henrietta  looks  nice,  doesn't  she?  " 
Hotie  asked. 

Van  Dyne  colored. 

"  She  always  looks  good  to  me,"  he  admitted. 

Except  for  a  little  pallor  that  had  come  with 
the  stress  of  the  last  few  weeks,  Henrietta  was 
looking  well.  The  smart  blue  tailored  suit  that 
Mrs.  Lovell  had  insisted  upon  providing,  brought 
out  the  lines  in  her  lithe  young  form,  and  the 
little  velvet  traveling  toque  was  extremely  be- 
coming. 

"  I  guess  she'll  make  those  Easterners  sit  up  and 
take  notice,"  Hotie  remarked  with  pride.  "  And 
she'll  fit  in  with  them,  too.  Mother  says  Henri- 
etta is  more  of  a  lady  than  any  of  us ;  she's  got  that 
nice  soft  voice,  and  lovely  manners." 

"  I  hope  she  won't  fit  too  well,"  Van  Dyne  mur- 
mured half  to  himself. 

"  I  think  she's  got  a  lot  of  Mrs.  Lovell's  ways, 
being  with  her  so  much,"  Hotie  rattled  on.  She 
was  a  garrulous  soul.  "  I  expect  that  young  artist 
who  has  her  picture  in  the  magazines  will  be  glad 
to  see  her." 

This  was  not  altogether  without  malice.  Van 
Dyne  never  had  much  time  to  waste  on  Hotie. 

Van  Dyne  took  a  step  forward.     "  Excuse  me, 


390  Only  Henrietta 

and  I'll  see  if  I  can  help  the  doctor  with  her 
baggage,"  he  said.  His  expression  was  rather 
set. 

The  little  party  stopped  to  chat  for  a  minute 
in  front  of  the  waiting-room.  Mrs.  Lovell  drew 
Henrietta  aside. 

'You  have  everything,  dear,  you  are  sure?" 
she  asked. 

"  Everything,  Mrs.  Lovell.  You  have  been  so 
kind.  I  can  never  repay  you." 

"  You  can,  Henrietta." 

The  blue  eyes  flashed  their  gratitude. 

"How  —  tell  me  please?" 

u  I'm  afraid  that  the  way  is  going  to  be  hard, 
Henrietta.  Working  one's  way  through  college 
is  hard.  This  lady  to  whom  you  are  to  act  as  a 
companion  may  be  harsh  at  times.  She  is  old. 
Old  people  are  often  unreasonable.  But  I  want 
you  to  promise  that  you  will  remain  with  her,  if 
possible." 

'  You  have  that  promise,  Mrs.  Lovell.  I  shall 
stay  with  her  until  she  asks  me  to  go." 

"  Thank  you,  Henrietta.  I  can  rely  upon  you. 
I  know." 

"  It  seems  so  little  to  promise  after  all  your 
interest  and  love." 

"  It  may  prove  to  be  a  great  deal,  Henrietta." 
The  eyes  of  the  older  woman  were  full  of  tears. 
"  You  have  been  so  wonderful  through  it  all  — 


Henrietta  Says  Good-by          391 

these  past  few  weeks,  dear.     But  we  must  not 
speak  of  it.     You  must  go  away  happy." 

"  I  shall,  Mrs.  Lovell."  Henrietta's  eyes  were 
clear  and  bright.  "  You-  know  what  she  said. 
You  were  there  at  the  last.  '  Look  ahead  —  not 
back'  I  shall  always  remember  that." 

They  walked  in  silence  for  a  minute. 

"  Mrs.  Summers  will  meet  you  in  Boston,  Hen- 
rietta. She  will  know  you  instantly." 

"  And  I  shall  know  her,  I  am  sure." 
'  You   will  remember  about  your  changes  in 
Chicago." 

'  Yes ;  Uncle  Doctor  has  given  me  full  instruc- 
tions.    Please  don't  worry." 

"And  you   will  telegraph   along  the  way.     I' 
shall  be  a  little  nervous." 

"  Yes." 

Somewhere  in  the  distance  a  train  whistled. 
Minnie  threw  her  arms  about  Henrietta  passion- 
ately. Then  she  turned  and  was  lost  in  the  crowd. 

Henrietta's  glance  followed  her  for  a  second 
wonderingly.  Her  lips  tightened. 

"  I  always  thought  that  going  off  to  school  was 
such  a  lark,"  she  said,  "  and  I  refuse  to  have  my 
hopes  blasted.  Good-by,  everybody.  Kiss  me, 
Uncle  Doctor.  Don't  let  Rebecca  forget  to  feed 
Bounder  regularly,  will  you  ?  And  I  shall  expect 
a  lot  of  letters  from  you  all.  Don't  forget,  Van 
Dyne !  " 


392  Only  Henrietta 

The  train,  with  a  roar  and  a  shriek,  steamed 
into  view.  Dr.  Hughes  picked  up  the  bags. 

When  Mrs.  Lovell  looked  back,  Henrietta  was 
blowing  kisses  from  the  steps  of  the  Pullman  — 
still  smiling. 


THE    END 


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ALMA  AT  HADLEY  HALL 

"  The  author  is  to  be  congratulated  on  having  written 
such  an  appealing  book  for  girls."  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 

ALMA'S  SOPHOMORE  YEAR 

"  It  cannot  fail  to  appeal  to  the  lovers  of  good  things 
in  girls'  books."  —  Boston  Herald. 

ALMA'S  JUNIOR  YEAR 

"  The  diverse  characters  in  the  boarding-school  are 
strongly  drawn,  the  incidents  are  well  developed  and  the 
action  is  never  dull."  —  The  Boston  Herald. 

ALMA'S  SENIOR  YEAR 

"  A  healthy,  natural  atmosphere  breathes  from  every 
chapter."  —  Boston  Transcript. 


DOCTOR'S  LITTLE  GIRL  SERIES 

By  MARION  AMES  TAGGART 
Each  large  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  per  volume,    $1.75 

THE   DOCTOR'S  LITTLE   GIRL 

"  A  charming  story  of  the  ups  and  downs  of  the  life 
of  a  dear  little  maid." — The  Churchman. 

SWEET    NANCY:     THE   FUBTHEB  ADVBNTUBES  OF 

THE  DOCTOR'S  LITTLE  GIRL. 

"Just  the  sort  of  book  to  amuse,  while  its  influence 
cannot  but  be  elevating." — New  York  Sun. 

NANCY,  THE  DOCTOR'S  LITTLE  PARTNER 

"  The  jtory   is   sweet  and   fascinating,   such   as   many 
girls  of  wholesome  tastes  will  enjoy." — Springfield  Union. 

NANCY  PORTER'S  OPPORTUNITY 

"  Nancy  shows  throughout  that  she  is  a  splendid  young 
woman,  with  plenty  of  pluck." — Boston  Globe. 

NANCY  AND  THE  COGGS  TWINS 

"  The  story  is  refreshing." — New  York  Sun. 
A— 11 


THE    PAGE    COMPANY'S 


THE  BOYS'  STORY  OF  THE 
RAILROAD  SERIES 

By  BURTON  E.  STEVENSON 

Each   large  12mo,   cloth   decorative,   illustrated, 
per  volume $1.75 

THE  YOUNG  SECTION-HAND;     OH,    THE    AD- 

VENTURES  OF  ALLAN   WEST. 

"  The  whole  range  of  section  railroading  is  covered  in 
the  story." —  Chicago  Post. 

THE  YOUNG  TRAIN  DISPATCHER 

"  A  vivacious  account  of  the  varied  and  often  hazard- 
ous nature  of  railroad  life." —  Congregationalist. 

THE  YOUNG  TRAIN  MASTER 

"  It  is  a  book  that  can  be  unreservedly  commended  to 
anyone  who  loves  a  good,  wholesome,  thrilling,  informing 
yarn." —  Passaic  News. 

THE    YOUNG   APPRENTICE;    OH,  ALLAN  WESTS 
CHUM. 
"  The  story  is  intensely  interesting." —  Baltimore  Sun. 

BOY  SCOUT  STORIES 

By  BREWER  CORCORAN 

Published  with  the  approval  of  "  The  Boy  Scouts  of 
A  merica." 

Each,  one  volume,  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illus- 
trated, per  volume $1.75 

THE  BOY  SCOUTS  OF  KENDALLVILLE 

The  story  of  a  bright  young  factory  worker  who  can- 
not enlist,  but  his  knowledge  of  woodcraft  and  wig- 
wagging, gained  through  Scout  practice,  enables  him  to 
foil  a  German  plot  to  blow  up  the  munitions  factory. 

THE  BOY  SCpUTS  OF  THE  WOLF  PATROL 

The  boys  of  Gillfield  who  were  not  old  enough  to  .<n> 
to  war  found  just  as  many  thrills  at  home,  chasing  a 
German  spy. 

THE  BOY  SCOUTS  AT  CAMP  LOWELL 

"  The  best  book  for  boys  I  have  ever  read ! "  says  our 
editor.  Mr.  Corcoran  has  again  found  enough  exciting 
material  to  keep  the  plot  humming  from  cover  to  cover. 
A— 12 


HILDEGARDE-  MARGARET  SERIES 

By  LAURA  E.  RICHAHDS 
Eleven  Volumes 

The  Hildegarde-Margaret  Series,  beginning  with 
"  Queen  Hildegarde "  and  ending  with  "  The  Merry- 
weathers,"  make  one  of  the  best  and  most  popular  series 
of  books  for  girls  ever  written. 

Each  large  ISmo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated, 

per  volume        .         .         .         .         .         .         .     $1.75 

The  eleven  volumes  boxed  as  a  set     .         .         .  $19.25 

LIST  OF  TITLES 
QUEEN  HILDEGARDE 
HILDEGARDE 'S  HOLIDAY 
fflLDEGARDE'S   HOME 
HILDEGARDE'S   NEIGHBORS 
HILDEGARDE  »S   HARVEST 
THREE  MARGARETS 
MARGARET  MONTFORT 
PEGGY 
RITA 

FERNLEY  HOUSE 
THE  MERRYWEATHERS 

A— 13 


THE  PAGE  COMPANY'S 


DELIGHTFUL  BOOKS  FOR  LITTLE 
FOLKS 

By  LAURA  £.  RICHARDS 

THREE  MINUTE  STORIES 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  with  eight  plates  in  full  color 
and  many  text  illustrations        .          .          .          .     $1.75 
"  Little  ones  will  understand  and  delight  in  the  stories 
and  poems." — Indianapolis  News. 

FIVE  MINUTE  STORIES 

Cloth  decorative,  square  12mo,  illustrated         .     $1.75 
A   charming   collection   of   short    stories    and    clever 
poems  for  children. 

MORE  FIVE  MINUTE  STORIES 

Cloth  decorative,  square   12mo,  illustrated       .    $1.75 
A  noteworthy  collection   of  short  stories   and   poems 

for  children,  which  will  prove  as  popular  with  mothers 

as  with  boys  and  girls. 

FIVE  MICE  IN  A  MOUSE  TRAP 

Cloth  decorative,  square   12mo,  illustrated        .     $l.Tj 
The  story  of  their  lives  and  other  wonderful  things 
related  by  the  Man  in  the  Moon,  done  in  the  vernacular 
from  the  lunacular  form  by  Laura  E.  Richards. 


A  NEW  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS 

By  LAURA  E.  RICHARDS 

HONOR  BRIGHT 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated  .  .  .  $!.?.> 
No  girl  ever  deserved  more  to  have  a  series  of  stories 
written  about  her  than  does  HONOR  BRIGHT,  the  new- 
est heroine  of  a  talented  author  who  has  created  many 
charming  girls.  Born  of  American  parents  who  die 
in  the  far  East,  Honor  spends  her  school  days  at  the 
Pension  Madeline  in  Vevey,  Switzerland,  surrounded  by 
playmates  of  half  a  dozen  nationalities.  As  are  all  of 
Mrs.  Richards'  heroines,  HONOR  BRIGHT  is  the  high- 
est type  of  the  young  girl  of  America,  with  all  the  in- 
dependence of  character  which  is  American  to  the  core 
in  young  as  in  old. 
A— 14 


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